Unearthed
by general zargon
Summary: AU: Kellindil the elven archer wasn't as dead as Roddy McGristle had thought...Rated T for mention of being buried alive.
1. Chapter 1

_Air!_

_He needed air!_

The elf's eyes snapped open, only to see nothing but dirt above him, and he immediately began to struggle, his lungs screaming at him for breath. He retained enough of his wits, however, to keep his mouth firmly closed, lest he swallow dirt and cut his life even shorter.

He thrashed, trying to lift his hands to push at the dirt above him, and he felt light-headed as he clawed desperately at the soil that covered him. He felt the soft dirt give way under his grasping nails, but he feared that even if he managed to get his hands out of into the open air, it would be too late.

Vainly trying to fight the panic and claustrophobia welling up inside him, brought on by the dirt pressing down on him and restricting his movements, the elf increased his struggles, feeling the energy leaving him as he began to suffocate, and his eyes drooped as he felt the urge to fall asleep and leave all else behind…

_No! _

The word was screamed inside his head, and his eyes widened, somehow finding the energy to renew his struggles, and he felt a sense of elation as his hands emerged from the earth and felt the sensation of a soft breeze caressing his dirt-encrusted skin.

His fingers clutched desperately for a handhold that he might use to pull himself out of the ground, and he kicked his legs as hard as he could, trying to somehow propel himself out into the open air. One of his hands found a sturdy root, and he clutched desperately at it, pulling with all his remaining strength, trying to escape his earthen prison before he suffocated.

First his arms, then his chest, and then - thank the gods! – His head emerged into the world above ground, followed soon after his waist and legs.

The elf gasped desperately for breath, taking in all the air – sweet, sweet, blessed air! – that he could as he collapsed on his side, away from the prison of dirt he had just escaped from, and with his hand still desperately clutching the tree root that had saved his life. His blue eyes were clenched shut as his lungs protested their being deprived of air for so long, and his breaths came in harsh, ragged pants.

His naturally blond hair was hardly visible through the layers of dirt left over from his escape from his underground prison which, when he cracked open his eyes and looked back towards it, he saw was an actual _grave_. His heavy pants, though less ragged than before as his body grew accustomed to the fresh air once more, became quicker as he realized that he had actually been _buried alive_, though in a shallow grave, which he was incredibly thankful for.

The elf began shaking as he tried to remember what had happened, which he knew would help him remember how he had ended up in that grave. He looked around, belatedly remembering to remove his hand, which had been clutching the tree root that had saved his life so hard that his knuckles stood out in stark relief, from the aforementioned tree root.

He looked down at himself, taking in his dirt-covered clothing, but even underneath the layers of soil he could see that they were of fine make, and well worn, obviously meant to hold up against many tendays of travel. His clothing was sturdy, and his boots showed signs of many travels. He furrowed his brow as he looked around, taking in the area around him and the now-empty grave, trying to see if there was anything to jog his memory in the scenery.

And then it all came back to him in rush akin to getting hit by a giant's club.

For a moment, Kellindil couldn't breathe, and once that moment was over he hurriedly gasped for breath, not wanting panic to overwhelm him as it almost had back in his shallow grave. Black shadows closed in on the edges of his vision as he lost his fight against the panic welling up inside him for just a moment, but he took several deep breaths and managed to force the tidal wave of feeling back down.

However, the effort left him panting and shaking, his eyes clenched shut as he struggled to stay conscious through the onslaught of memories.

In his mind, he saw the battle at Mooshie's Grove, he saw himself shooting arrows from his bow and felling worgs as they fled after the fall of their leader Caroak, he saw himself capturing Roddy McGristle, the bounty hunter who had been responsible for all the trouble because he pursued the dark elf….!

Kellindil remembered the dark elf, he recalled following the drow and trying to discern his intentions, and he remembered his relief when he had learned that the dark elf openly wandered the old ranger's grove. The blond elf relaxed as he remembered that the dark elf was a friend, and then tensed again, his breath coming quicker as the memories of what had happened after he had captured McGristle came back to him.

He remembered the journey towards Sundabar where McGristle was to face punishment, and he grit his teeth as he remembered the small green sprite that had set McGristle loose. He clenched his hands into fists as he remembered the bounty hunter attacking him, and he lifted a shaking hand to his throat, which had just begun to throb at the memory of McGristle's fingers around it. His breath came fast, as though to reassure himself that he could still breathe, and the elven archer felt a wave of anger rise up inside of him, especially when he looked around and saw that the bounty hunter had taken all of his supplies along with his weapons, leaving him essentially defenseless should any wild animals or monsters come upon him. Though, Kellindil guessed that Roddy McGristle had thought him dead when he had buried him, however the elf wouldn't have put it past the bounty hunter to have knowingly buried him alive.

The elf took a deep breath, grimacing when his throat gave a particularly painful throb to protest that motion, and then took a more thorough look at his surroundings to try and recover his bearings. He saw several places where the earth had been disturbed, though none of them were large enough for a human or an elf, so Kellindil guessed that the bounty hunter had buried what he couldn't steal. He sighed wearily, feeling the events of the past day catch up with him, and he wanted nothing more than to sleep, but he shook himself slightly and told himself that he had to stay alert at least until he got to a better hiding place.

Kellindil braced himself and slowly pushed himself to his feet, swaying alarmingly and clutching at the nearby tree trunk for support. He took a deep breath, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in his throat, and steeling himself as he took a small step forward, removing his hand from the tree trunk in the process…only to almost fall flat on his face as soon as he moved away from the life-saving tree. The elf stayed on his hands and knees where he had fallen for a few moments, trying to gather his strength in order to rise to his feet, and this time when he attempted it he managed to stand on his own to feet, though he swayed alarmingly.

He took shallow breaths, fighting back the urge to pass out where he stood, and he understood that he was most likely too weak to make it very far in his condition. He would settle for making it to a safe place to rest, or at least a good distance away from what would have been his grave. He glanced around one last time, deciding that it wouldn't be worth the effort to unbury any of the supplies that the bounty hunter had decided not to take with him.

The elf needed all the strength that he could get in order to walk without the aid of something to hold himself up without wasting any digging up most likely ruined supplies.

He took deep, steadying breaths, relieved that his throat wasn't protesting quite as much as before, and then took a small step forward. The blond elf smiled happily when he didn't fall over, and he looked up as he tried to figure out which way he should go. He was only a day away from Sundabar, since McGristle hadn't bothered to bury him away from the campsite, but there was no guarantee the people of Sundabar would help him. He knew that it was unfair of him to think like that, since the people of Sundabar were good, honest people for the most part, but in his weakened state he didn't want to take any unnecessary chances.

He decided to head back to his kin in Coldwood, since they would help him and they deserved to know what McGristle had done – or at least, tried to do. After he had recovered and restocked his supplies, he would make his way to Sundabar and then on to Silverymoon, where Dove's sister Alustriel was High Lady, in case his companions had already left Sundabar.

Kellindil the elven archer turned determinedly in the direction of Coldwood and started off, heading back towards his where his kin had last set up camp.

**I got so upset when RA killed Kellindil that I found myself inspired to write this, so please review and tell me what you think! I may continue this if I get enough reviews asking me to. ^_^ Constructive criticism is welcome.**


	2. Chapter 2

Kellindil groaned quietly as he slowly sat up from where he had been resting against the thick trunk of an old tree, pausing to set his hand against one of the roots and thank the tree for providing him with shelter, and then grimaced as he took several deep breaths before levering himself up to his feet. He swayed, dangerously close to falling over, but thankfully he managed to stay upright. He had been traveling for half a tenday, and yet he wasn't even halfway to Coldwood. He knew that in his condition it was understandable that it would take him a long time to reach his kin provided nothing attacked him thinking the lone, clearly injured elf easy prey.

The blond elf took a moment to say a brief prayer thanking the gods that no monsters had come upon him before bending down to retrieve the fallen tree branch he had been using as a walking stick. He had been lucky enough to find the fallen limb shortly after he had begun his journey back to his kin, and he had no doubt that it was only because of his impromptu walking stick that he hadn't fallen down more than he had. He had fed himself on nuts and berries that he had gathered from bushes and the low branches of trees, and though it wasn't the best diet, it had kept him full and helped him recover a small bit of his strength.

He had, however, had a rather close call with an irate bear who had thought he was trying to encroach on its hunting grounds, and he had only escaped the large predator by struggling across a fairly deep stream and then scrambling up a tree to a sturdy branch halfway up, where he had had to stay until the bear had grown bored and wandered off; which had taken almost an entire day.

Now, the elven archer began walking towards where his cousins had last set up camp, even though he knew there was little chance that his kin were still there. At the very least, he would likely be able to track them to their new camp and then get help. He grimaced as his throat throbbed once again, and he knew without having to look into a puddle of still water or a mirror that his throat was darkly bruised and swollen, though hopefully the swelling was beginning to go down. It hadn't hurt as much when he had swallowed his morning meal of assorted berries, so he hoped that that was a good sign.

Oh, what he wouldn't give for a bow and quiver of arrows, Kellindil mentally lamented, because if he had his favored weapons with him he wouldn't need fear the animals and monsters that lurked in the forest. He frowned at himself, since it was no use wishing for the impossible, and he told himself that he should just focus on getting to his kin so he could get the aid he so desperately needed.

The elf leant most of his weight on his walking stick as he continued on towards Coldwood, his pointed ears alert for any sounds out of the ordinary in the fairly peaceful wood he was traveling through. His blue eyes darted quickly around, examining every shadow and shrub that could possibly conceal an enemy – or enemies – though he was certain that his ears would warn him of danger before his eyes perceived it. Still, he picked up his pace as much as he was able, wanting to get as far as he could before the sun set and he wanted to have found a safe place to rest for the night by then.

Kellindil sighed, managing to ignore the slight, almost constant pain in his throat where the bounty hunter McGristle had tried to strangle him, and did some mental calculations, realizing with a sinking feeling that at his current pace it would take him two more tendays at least before he reached his kin's last camp. He tried to keep his spirits up by telling himself that once he made it to the Dead Orc Pass he might be able to find a trading caravan willing to let him travel with them.

Dead Orc Pass, he reflected as he walked, leaning heavily on the fallen branch he was using as a walking stick, was not aptly named at all. While it was true that many orcs had died in that pass, many more were hiding in caves and bolt-holes in the cliffs that framed the river that ran through the pass, just waiting for unwary travelers to wander over to their side of the river. Although, trading caravans who traveled the road that ran parallel to Dead Orc Pass didn't have to fear orc ambushes as much as they used too since the old ranger Montolio DeBrouchee – Mooshie to his friends – had claimed a nearby grove as his own.

The elf sighed under his breath, mentally chiding himself for letting his thoughts wander when he should have been paying attention to his surroundings, but he couldn't help wondering the one question that nagged at the back of his mind: what had happened to the old ranger and the dark elf after he had captured McGristle? He remembered that the older ranger and the dark elf – who went by the name of 'Drizzt' if he remembered correctly – had won the battle, but he had no idea what had happened to them after that. He consoled himself with the knowledge that the old ranger could take care of himself, and he knew that the dark elf could certainly do the same.

Kellindil firmly pulled his thoughts from contemplating the fate of Mooshie and the dark elf, annoyed with himself for letting his mind stray from the matter at hand, and he looked around to get his bearings once again, relieved that he had at least kept walking while he had been thinking. He smiled in great relief when he saw that he hadn't wandered off course, and he leaned heavily on his walking stick, taking a brief rest while he tried to remember where all the safe places to rest were. He grimaced when he realized that there weren't many options open to him on that score, especially if he kept traveling at his current pace.

The blond elf decided that he had rested enough and set off once again in the direction of Coldwood, his ears primed to detect any sound that might give away a monster or hungry predator. He did not want a repeat of the incident with the bear. He ran the hand not gripping his fallen limp/walking stick through his hair, frowning in disgust at the feel of the dirt encrusted strands, and he found himself longing for a river, shallow stream, or other water source that he could use to wash the clinging soil from his hair.

One thing at a time, he told himself.

He made his way slowly through the gradually thickening underbrush, grimacing whenever he felt something snag his clothing or cut his exposed hands. He supposed he should be grateful that McGristle – curse him to the Abyss! – had left him his clothing, and that he only had to deal with small cuts on his hands that stung more that anything else. Just as that thought crossed his mind, his foot slid into a hidden gopher hole and tripped him, causing him to fall head-over-heels.

Kellindil cried out in dismay, feeling several sharp branches slice at his face and open more stinging cuts, and he rolled through several shrubs and bushes, distantly aware of the fact that he had managed to keep a hold on his walking stick. He supposed he should be grateful for small mercies, he thought just as he rolled to stop.

The elven archer slowly sat up, groaning quietly at the new injuries he felt though they were thankfully just bruises and small cuts that weren't even bleeding. He grimaced in pain, groaning again when he felt his throat throb even more in response to the most recent abuse his body had been subjected to, and he grasped his walking stick as firmly as he could, slowly sitting up and cataloging his new injuries. It appeared that he only had a few new bumps and bruises along his arms and legs, and the cuts on his face and hands were more annoying than anything else. The good thing about his unexpected and frankly embarrassing fall was that he had rolled onto what looked like an animal path, and that meant he wouldn't have to struggle through the underbrush while he walked.

He used his walking stick to slowly push himself up to his feet, swaying a bit as he leaned most of his weight onto the branch and gently tested the foot that had gone into the gopher hole, sighing in relief when he was able to put weight on it and walk. He set off down the animal trail, figuring that he was bound to find _something_ if he followed the path, even if it was just a herd of deer or other such creatures. As he walked, he found himself hoping to find a watering hole or something of that nature, as he would welcome the chance to at least clean his hands and face in order to prevent the cuts and scrapes from his fall from becoming infected.

**I know I'm evil for ending it there, but it seemed as good a place as any. Don't worry, I promise the next chapter will have some action in it…Maybe. :P**

**Thanks to those who reviewed and pointed out any mistakes I made, but since most of them were really small, I'm not going to get into a fight with my computer in order to edit the first chapter. ^_^ Sorry, you'll just have to mentally correct the spelling errors! Again, thanks to all those who asked that I continue this fic!**


	3. Chapter 3

After walking down the animal path he had, literally, stumbled upon for almost an entire day, Kellindil was starting to think that he had picked the wrong direction to walk in, especially now that he was beginning to tire and lean on his walking stick a lot more frequently. Not to mention the fact that there was no sign of the trail leading him anywhere anytime soon, and he was beginning to think that he would soon be hopelessly lost. In his condition, the elf knew, 'lost' was about the worst thing he could be.

He tripped over a hidden tree root and nearly went face first into the ground, but managed to catch himself enough so that he was kneeling on his hands and knees instead of eating dirt. He considered that a great improvement, as he had no love for dirt after having dug himself out of his own grave. He was also starting to wonder if maybe he should have made the effort to unearth some of the shallowly-buried supplies before he had set off. Well, it was too late to wonder about that now, he told himself then sighed in resignation as he picked himself up and continued trudging down the trail, noting that it was starting to become difficult to tell the trail from the rest of the ground.

The elf chalked that up to his growing exhaustion, but he hated the thought of stopping to rest and wasting even more time, though he was starting to think that following the animal path in the direction he had had been a large waste of time on its own. He dreaded finding out if his suspicions on that front were true or not, but he mentally steeled himself and continued walking, though his walk was more of a stumble now that fatigue was starting to set in and the throbbing in his throat became even more noticeable as he was unable to muster the energy to ignore it.

Kellindil huffed, unable to bring himself to care that doing so caused his bruised throat even more pain, and then sighed stiffly, pausing once again to rest and get his bearings. He looked up at what little of the sky he could see through the tree canopy and tried to gauge how much time he had left before night fell. He finally gave up after several minutes of trying, admitting to himself that he was merely delaying the inevitable, and then he looked back towards the trail in front of him, starting off once again after spending several moments catching his breath.

He made sure to avoid putting too much weight on the ankle that had went into the gopher hole, since he didn't want to chance actually injuring himself. Given his recent run of luck, he'd probably sprain his ankle as soon as he put too much weight on it. The blond elf could have slapped himself for thinking that, and he looked around cautiously, keeping his ears primed to detect the sound of an approaching monster or other predator and his sharp eyes scanned his surroundings thoroughly.

When several minutes went by without anything jumping out at him, he sighed in relief and started walking again, leaning on his walking stick as he did so. And, if he walked a bit faster than he had been previously – well, there was no one around to know that, was there?

Almost an hour more of walking down the path and Kellindil was about ready to call it a day and find someplace remotely safe to spend the night when he heard what sounded like the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard: running water. He gripped his walking stick firmly and hobbled as fast as he could towards that wonderful sound, his heart beating faster as the trees thinned and then abruptly ended, leaving the elf standing on the edge of a cliff.

The cliff abruptly dropped off a few feet in front of the blond elf, but a few moments examination revealed that the animal continued downwards at a quick slope a dozen feet down the cliff. Kellindil examined the area around him cautiously, and with a start recognized the canyon in front of him as a branch of the Dead Orc Pass. The sounded of running water he had heard was coming from the small stream leading into the canyon, ending in a fairly deep pool at the foot of the animal trail he had been following.

Kellindil shook himself out of his surprise and sighed in relief, both at having found a water source and at the fact that all he had to do was follow the Dead Orc Pass in order to reach Coldwood. Granted, the Pass ended before it actually reached Coldwood, but he was too relieved to really care about that. The elven archer continued down the trail, going slower than he would have liked because of his injuries and the fact that the path down to the pool was at a fairly sharp angle. He didn't want to injure himself further by tripping and rolling the rest of the way to the bottom of the trail, and he had had enough of falling on his face thank you very much. He smiled happily when he reached the edge of the pool and he practically collapsed to his knees, barely having the presence of mind to set his walking stick right next to him instead of simply throwing it to the side, in his rush to get to the refreshing liquid.

He cupped his hands together and dipped them into the water, closing his eyes briefly in bliss at the feel of the coolness of the water and enjoying the feel of the dirt and grime being washed from his hands, before he raised his cupped hands up to his mouth and eagerly drank the water inside the bowl formed by his palms. He closed his eyes in relief as he felt the water moisten his parched throat, and he repeated the process of dipping his hands into the pool and then lifting them up to his mouth in order to drink five more times before he wasn't thirsty any longer.

The blond elf opened his eyes and looked out over the pool, not surprised to see no fish in the water and just happy to have found the pool at all. And to think, he mused to himself wryly, it was all because I tripped over a gopher hole. He chuckled softly under his breath before dipping his cupped hands into the water again, this time splashing the water he brought up into his face, and he quickly began splashing water on his face and hair to get as much of the dirt and grime off as he could without a washing cloth or soap.

Kellindil scrubbed the dirt off of his hands and face (he knew his hair was pretty much a lost cause until he reached his kin or found a waterfall that could double as a shower) until his flesh was pink from the scrubbing. His sighed happily, saying a quick prayer of thanks to whoever had led him to the pool of water, but then he realized he might have spoken too soon. From behind, a deep, rumbling growl was heard, and the elf froze, slowly reaching down to his side to grab his walking stick while at the same time turning slowly around to face the threat, not wanting to provoke whatever-it-was by making any sudden movements.

_It was a wolf._

The creature growled low in it's throat, clearly threatening a great deal of violence should the elf make any move towards it, and the elven archer froze, scarcely breathing as he locked eyes with the predator. They stayed in those positions for several long moments, the elf crouched in front of the pool of water in a kneeling position, one hand grasping the walking stick at his side and the other hand pressed against the ground, and the wolf a dozen feet away tense and crouching down ready to spring at the slightest movement from it's chosen prey.

The stand-off continued for several tense moments until, somewhere nearby, a hawk screeched its' hunting cry and – as if that was some kind of signal – the two opponents, elf and wolf, lunged at each other.

Kellindil brought his walking stick up as though it were a staff and swung it like a club, the fallen branch making contact with the lunging wolf's snout with a loud _CRACK!_ And the wolf yelped loudly in pain as it was knocked to the side by the force of the swing. Unfortunately for the injured elf, the wolf didn't stay down for long and it was soon back on its feet and snarling in anger. The elf and wolf locked eyes for a moment, and then the wolf attacked, jumping at its injured prey with claws outstretched and fangs poised to tear at the wounded elf.

The elf swung the fallen limb once again, putting all the strength he could behind his strike, just as the wolf's jump brought it in close to the elf. Once again the branch connected with the wolf's snout, only this time several of the snarling animal's fangs went flying along with it. The wolf landed hard only a few feet away from where it had landed before, and this time it took a few moments longer for the predator to get back on its feet.

The wolf snarled, pain and rage clear in the savage sound, and this time it stalked cautiously closer to the injured elf, circling its prey as it did so. Kellindil watched the predator cautiously, his grip tightening on the fallen branch he was using to defend himself, and he turned with the animal as it circled around him despite the fact that his own injuries were beginning to scream at him, especially his bruised throat. The wolf circled towards the injured elf's side before feinting a lunge, hoping to make its prey swing his weapon and leave himself open, but the elven archer was a veteran fighter and even injured he refused to fall for such an obvious ploy.

The wounded elf kept his grip on his walking stick steady as his blue eyes focused on the wolf who snarled when its feint failed, and the elf shifted his grip on the fallen branch-cum-staff, preparing for the wolf's next attack. He didn't have to wait long; the wolf lunged a few moments later, snapping its jaws and trying to get its remaining fangs into its prey. Kellindil took a step back away from the snapping fangs and brought the fallen branch he grasped up in an uppercut motion, smashing the tree limb into the wolf's bottom jaw and forcefully closing the animal's mouth and snapping its head back.

The wolf stumbled back, shaking its head and blinking to clear its gaze even as blood trickled out of its closed mouth; the force of the branch closing its jaws had caused several of its fangs to cut into the softer flesh of its mouth. The animal snarled again as the pain of its cut mouth and the repeated hits with the fallen tree limb hit it all at once, and it began lunging furiously at the cause of its pain: the injured elf it had thought an easy target. Injured and dazed though it was, the wolf was still a fierce fighter, and Kellindil was hard pressed to avoid being injured or driven back into the small pond.

The injured elf had never been so thankful to have found his walking stick as he used it to turn aside another of the wolf's lunges, this time his strike landing on the animal's shoulder. The elf braced himself, eyeing his opponent cautiously, and he was not disappointed as the animal aimed low, lunging at his legs and trying to knock him off balance. The wounded elf hissed when one of the wolf's claws sliced through the leg of his pants and drew blood, and he hurriedly swung his walking stick low and from the side, striking the wolf on the shoulder again and knocking the animal away from him.

Kellindil hissed when his new injury began to throb in time with his old ones, and he favored his cut leg as he watched the wolf regain its feet, though it favored the leg attached to the shoulder he had struck. The wolf snarled again, visibly limping as it approached the injured elf more cautiously than before, and its eyes narrowed in rage before it leapt, its jaws opened and aimed to tear out the elf's throat.

Time seemed to slow down as Kellindil brought his only weapon up over his head and then swung it down, the fallen limb colliding with the top of the wolf's head with a resounding _CRACK!_ And time returned to normal as the animal fell to the ground, limp.

The injured elf gasped for breath as he cautiously lowered his walking stick/club and took a small step towards the still form of the wolf, favoring his leg where the wolf's claws had scratched him. He paused a moment to examine the body of the animal, noting that it was obvious the wolf's skull was broken from his last strike, and then he realized why this wolf had been the only one to attack him. Aside from the injuries from the battle between elf and wolf, it was plain to see that this wolf had been in a previous battle and come out the worse for it. There were several deep wounds along the wolf's back that looked to have been made by another wolf's fangs and claws, and numerous scratches along the dead wolf's belly and chest.

Also, the dead wolf's ribs were clearly visible, and now that Kellindil stopped to examine his opponent, he saw that the dead animal was incredibly skinny. The wolf had been starving, the injured elf realized, and that was why it had attacked him. Apparently the wolf had lost a fight for dominance in its pack and been exiled so, starving and desperate, it had attacked him since he had also been injured and it had thought that it had had a chance of emerging as the victor.

Despite the fact that the wolf had attacked him with the intent to kill, Kellindil had to feel some sympathy for the beast, and he dipped his head in a show of respect for the creature before he turned back to the pond and set about cleaning his newest injury. He hissed when the cool water touched the wound left by the wolf's claws, and he fervently hoped that the scratches wouldn't become infected. Bad enough that the scratched leg was also the leg that had gotten caught in the gopher hole, and as if on cue his ankle began to sting. Obviously the limb didn't appreciate the abuse that had been heaped upon it, and had no qualms about letting him know it.

The injured elf took a deep breath through his nose and let that same breath out in a sigh before he quickly but thoroughly cleaned his other wounds once more, and then grasped his walking stick as he stood up and began searching for the wolf fangs that he had knocked out of the dead animal's mouth early on in the fight. It didn't take him long to locate the wolf's teeth since they hadn't flown far, and after he had gathered them up he limped back over to the wolf's carcass, kneeling beside it with a grimace as he selected the longest, sharpest fang he held, then he found one of the animal's deeper wounds which he then used to help him begin skinning the carcass.

He loathed having to use the wolf's own fang to skin it, but that was his only option, and he would need all the warmth he could get when night fell and temperatures dropped. He was also looking forward to eating some meat, raw or not, and he felt that he had earned the supplement to his recent diet of berries and nuts. The wounded elf finished the grisly work of skinning the wolf with the primitive tool of the animal's own fang and then stripped the pelt of its fat as best he could with the wolf fangs at his disposal.

Kellindil set the newly-cleaned pelt aside, since he didn't have a drying rack to string it on, and then began the bloody task of stripping the edible meat from the carcass, looking forward to the chance to properly clean himself up once he finished his grisly task of salvaging what he could from the wolf's body. Unfortunately, he thought as he looked down at the blood staining his tunic, he didn't think he would have the opportunity to clean his clothing for a long while. He sighed and then reminded himself to take what blessings he could get as he got back to work.

**This was my first time writing a fight scene so I was a little nervous, but I think I did pretty well. So, please review and tell me what you think! Constructive criticism is welcome.**

**Quick Poll: Who thinks I should stop tormenting poor Kellindil and give the elf a break? Send your vote in a review!**


	4. Chapter 4

Kellindil groaned in relief as he leaned back against the wall of the small cave he had found a little ways away from the branch of the Dead Orc Pass where he had fought the wolf, enjoying the chance to rest his tired muscles, and he didn't even mind that his arm and scratched leg were hurting almost as much as his throat had when he had first dug himself out of his grave.

After he had finished skinning the wolf, which was what resulted in the sore muscles in his arm, he had had to carefully cut the edible meat from the carcass, and that had been both bloody and time-consuming. He supposed he had been lucky that the rest of the wolf pack hadn't been close by, and that no scavengers had smelled the blood and decided to try for an easy meal. After he had salvaged what meat he could from the wolf carcass, he had washed his hands off in the pond and grabbed his walking stick before stumbling off towards the Pass, since he knew he would have to make more than one trip to transport the wolf pelt and the meat and he would rather know where he was carrying it beforehand.

Luck had been with him, for just a few yards into the main part of Dead Orc Pass and he had discovered a cave just big enough for him to stay in comfortably for the night. The cave had been about two horse-lengths long and one man-length wide, and had been one big room with no tunnels. Perfect for an overnight stay, and so the elf had gone back to where he'd left the wolf pelt and the wolf meat and begun the laborious task of transporting it all to his chosen resting place. He had had to make four trips from the carcass to his newly chosen resting place: once to retrieve the battered wolf pelt and three times to take the meat to the cave along with any loose wolf fangs he could find.

The sun had been at its last stages of setting and the temperature had begun to fall rapidly before he had gotten everything he could carry into the small cave, and then he had had to venture out again to collect sticks and leaves that he could use to start a fire. His walking stick had helped him too much for him to consider using it as kindling, plus he still needed it to move around. He had made a circle of stones inside the cave and stacked some easily burned sticks, twigs, and small leaves inside it, and now the only problem he had was getting a fire started.

Kellindil groaned again, only this time it wasn't in relief, and he pushed himself up into a proper sitting position as he moved closer to the ring of stones in the center of the cave, picking up one of the wolf fangs he had brought with him into the cave as he did so. The elf grabbed a spare rock he had decided not to include in the stone ring and leaned over the pile of sticks as he struck the wolf fang against the stone, trying to cause a spark to ignite the kindling.

He brought the fang and the stone closer to the pile of sticks as he continued striking the wolf fang against the stone in an effort to cause sparks. He longed for some proper flint, but he knew he would have to make do with the wolf fang and the ordinary stone. He grimaced when his throat throbbed again, and he began trying to remember if any healing herbs grew around Dead Orc Pass as he struck fang against stone again.

The elf thought he saw a small flicker when he struck the wolf fang against the rock, and he continued striking the fang against the stone in the hopes of producing the more substantial sparks needed to light the pile of sticks and leaves on fire. He didn't really need the fire in order to see, as he had infrared vision like his kin and darker cousins the drow, but he needed the fire for warmth and to cook the meat he had salvaged from the wolf carcass. His mouth began to water at the merest thought of the addition of meat to his diet, and he struck the wolf fang in his hand against the stone in his other hand with renewed vigor.

That time the elven archer definitely saw sparks when the two connected.

Kellindil glanced over to where he had set the wolf pelt and the wolf meat on the other side of the circle of stones; he had set the wolf pelt fur-side down and he had put the meat on top of the pelt, for lack of anywhere else to put it. The underside of the wolf pelt was also cleaner than the floor of the cave, and he didn't want to eat dirt along with the wolf meat. He looked back at what he was doing, as he needed to pay attention if he wanted to get a fire started with a wolf fang and a rock instead of proper flint. He narrowed his blue eyes when he saw a few flickering sparks when he struck the two items against each other again, and with renewed determination he hunched over the small pile of sticks, twigs, and leaves, striking the wolf fang against the stone again. His face lit up in a beaming smile when more substantial sparks flew and landed on the pile of kindling, which then began emitting a thin stream of smoke.

The elf crouched down right in front of the kindling and began gently blowing on the source of that thin stream of smoke, trying to encourage the small spark to catch hold and grow into a proper fire. He braced his hands on either side of his body, one hand holding the wolf's fang and the other hand holding the small stone, and continued blowing soft breaths into the pile of sticks, knowing that if he blew too hard the fire would go out and if he blew too softly the spark wouldn't catch.

He had to fight the urge to cheer when the spark he had been blowing on caught at the dry sticks and leaves, quickly growing into a cheerful fire. He straightened up and sighed in relief, setting aside the wolf fang and smaller stone and moving back a bit to lean against the wall briefly before he went over to where he had set the wolf meat, grabbing a longer stick that he had found outside in his search for firewood as he did so. The longer stick was broken on one end so it ended in a sharp point, and it was also the perfect size for roasting meat on. Luck had definitely been with him when he had found it, as well as when he had found the cave he currently rested in.

Kellindil picked up a piece of wolf meat and swiftly speared it with the long stick in his hand, then moved back over to his previous spot by the fire. He quickly braced the long stick against the circle of stones ringing the now cheerily burning fire, expertly propping it up so that the wolf meat was just inside the fire, perfect for cooking it. After that he breathed a sigh of relief, leaning back against the stone wall and watching as the wolf meat was slowly cooked along with enjoying the additional warmth that the fire provided.

The elven archer was glad to have the opportunity to take a break, and he absently picked up the wolf fang he had used to start the fire, turning it over in his hands as he kept an eye on the cooking meat, not wanting to have to choke down burned meat and further aggravate his throat. He glanced down at the wolf's fang he was holding and thought, with a small bit of amusement, that his repeated striking of the fang against stone had yielded a slightly unexpected result: the tip of the wolf fang was now razor sharp.

'_Well, at least now I have a weapon in case I run into something that won't be felled by walking stick,_' He thought wryly, though the downside was that his opponent would have to get very close indeed in order for the sharpened wolf fang to be an effective weapon. Still, he supposed it would come in handy, so he absently pocketed the fang as he moved forward to retrieve his dinner which, from what he could tell, was done.

Outside the cave, it began to rain.

**The votes are in! I have decided to cut poor Kellindil a break and not injure him this chapter. ^_^ This is basically a filler chapter because in the next chapter I'm going to (tentatively) introduce one of my own characters, so don't be mad at me for ending it there! ^_^ Please read and review! Constructive criticism is welcome!**


	5. Chapter 5

The rain had continued on through the night and well into the next day, though Kellindil only knew that when he awoke the next morning, the rain was still pouring down. He had finished a quarter of the wolf meat the night before, having taken the opportunity to gorge himself and regain a bit more of his strength now that he had the chance for a change in his diet, and then fallen into an deep reverie while sitting back against the wall of the cave closest to the fire. Said fire had long since died down to smoldering embers by the time that the elven archer awoke from his reverie, and Kellindil drowsily placed a few more leaves and twigs that he had gathered for just such an occasion into the stone circle, poking the embers with the stick he had cooked the wolf meat on the night before until the fire began burning cheerfully within the circle of stones once again.

The elf sighed, enjoying the warmth of the fire as he set the long stick aside and leaned back against the wall, only to groan as his back protested his treatment of it. Taking reverie while sitting up was all well and good when he was in full health, but in his current condition his back made no qualms about its anger over having been in the upright position for so long. His back began to ache as he gradually became more aware of his surroundings, and he grimaced as his throat began aching as well. Apparently his head had slumped forward when he was in reverie and his neck ached something fierce as a result. He groaned again, this time in acute discomfort as he slowly, laboriously sat forward, shifting his position until he was sitting cross-legged and straight-backed closer to the fire so he wouldn't give into the temptation to lean back against the wall.

His stomach began to rumble just as he got into a good position, and he had to restrain the urge to growl as he slid around the fire and over to the wolf meat, grabbing the long stick he used as a spit in the process, and quickly speared a piece of meat on the sharp end of the stick. He moved back over to his original position, grudgingly admitting to himself that moving around was a good thing, since his backside had begun to fall asleep from sitting down so long, and he quickly braced the long stick against the stone circle again, making sure that the wolf meat was just barely inside the fire.

While he waited for the wolf meat to cook, he turned his blue eyes to the stone above his head, trying to judge how much room there was above him without having to actually stand up. At the thought of standing up, his scratched leg began aching in time with his throat and his back, and he grimaced but determinedly returned to trying to gauge how tall the roof was at its highest point. He silently measured as best he could while sitting down, keeping one eye on the cooking wolf meat as he did so, and he came to the conclusion that the roof was at the same height – tall enough for him to stand up though he would have to duck his head to avoid hitting it - throughout the small cave. He was relieved about that, though he wasn't given much time to dwell on it before he noticed that the wolf meat was done and he removed the spit from the stone circle.

Kellindil blew gently across the hot wolf meat, cooling it so that it wouldn't burn his tongue when he bit into it. He gazed absently into the cheerily burning fire, wondering how long it would be before the rain stopped and he could continue on his journey to where his kin had last made camp. He had the sinking feeling that it would be awhile, but he tried to stay optimistic, thinking that at least he would have the chance to rest and recover a bit more before setting off. He was also realistic though, and he knew that if the rain kept falling for more than two days he was liable to run out of firewood and wolf meat.

To take his mind off those worries, he gently tested the cooked wolf meat and found it cool enough to eat, yet still slightly warm. He took a bite of the wolf meat, chewing slowly and thoroughly so that it wouldn't hurt his throat quite so much, and savored the warm, slightly rich taste. He knew that the meat would have tasted much better with some spices and seasonings, but right then the wolf meat was the best thing he'd eaten in a long time. He swallowed, wincing a bit as his throat stung, but he was relieved that the pain wasn't as bad as it had been when he'd first clawed his way out of his shallow grave. He finished off the meat on the makeshift-spit, and sighed happily as he felt the warm meal settle in his stomach.

However, the elven archer was startled out of his happiness over the meal and the cheerful fire when his sharp ears detected something other than the sound of falling rain. He froze in place, scarcely breathing as he strained his ears and tried to indentify the sound that had caught his attention. Over the sound of the rain hitting the earth outside the entrance to the small cave, the sound struck a chord of recognition within him and he realized that he _knew_ the sound: the sound of footstep splashing through water and mud.

He tensed, setting the makeshift-spit down and reaching for his walking stick before he realized that even if the being that the footsteps belonged to didn't bypass his cave entirely, the cave was too small for his walking stick to be used effectively. He growled silently under his breath and instead pulled out the sharpened wolf fang he had pocketed the night before, and he was grateful that he hadn't thrown the thing away. He held the sharpened fang in his hand and waited, listening as the footsteps outside grew closer and closer before they abruptly stopped outside the entrance to the small cave, and he saw a shadow moving outside the cave.

Kellindil quietly moved off to the side so he couldn't be seen from the cave mouth, knowing that it was too late to put out the fire, which now served to broadcast that there was someone in the cave. He tensed, knowing that if the owner of the footsteps was an orc or goblin he was at a severe disadvantage and that surprise would be his best ally. His injuries suddenly began to ache more acutely, and he realized that his chances of defending himself against an enemy were practically nonexistent, as he only had a sharpened wolf fang with which to attack or counterattack.

There were several tense moments as whoever was outside the entrance to the cave knelt down and began to enter the shelter, and the elven archer tensed further, prepared to attack the moment he saw any sign of orc or goblin flesh. A few more moments passed in which the elf seldom dared to breath, and then a head full of dark brown tied in a low ponytail at the base of the neck appeared through the cave mouth, followed by the rest of the human's body. Kellindil relaxed slightly, relieved that it wasn't an orc or goblin, though he was still slightly tense. After all, the only reason he was in the situation that he was in was because a human had tried to kill him, and then buried him alive in a shallow grave. The elf remembered his human friend, the warrior Gabriel, and he relaxed a bit more, lowering the hand that held the sharpened wolf fang slightly as the human male who had entered the cave looked around and noticed the dirt and blood covered elf in the corner eyeing him warily.

The human male froze, dark brown eyes locking with blue ones as human and elf stared at each other, trying to discern the other intentions. Rain water dripped off of the human to land on the stone floor, and the brown haired man relaxed a bit when he realized what must be the reason for the elf's wariness. The human male shifted and crawled further inside the warm cave, backing up towards the corner opposite the elf so the dirt-encrusted and obviously injured being wouldn't feel threatened. Lips quirked up slightly in a smile, the man calmly told the elf, dark brown eyes still locked with the elf's blue ones, "Peace my friend, I seek only shelter from the rain, and I have no plans to evict you out into it!" He chuckled a bit as the elf relaxed, and he added courteously, "I am Bryran, might I ask your name, Sir Elf?"

Kellindil relaxed even more at the human's – Bryran's – calm demeanor, though he was still wary. He took a moment to carefully examine the human who had entered his temporary shelter and try and take the man's measure. The human was dressed as a warrior, and the broadsword at his side seemed to support that. He was of average if slim build, though the human was clearly well-muscled, and if he stood up straight the elven archer had no doubt that Bryran would stand at least six feet tall. The male warrior had dark brown hair that brushed passed his shoulders and was tied back in a low ponytail at the base of his neck, and a tanned, handsome face with a firm jaw-line that sported the barest beginnings of a beard. Dark brown eyes gleamed with intelligence and good-humor, which was another mark in Bryran's favor.

The warrior was dressed in plain steel armor: steel chestplate, steel chainmail, steel shoulderplates, and steel and leather gauntlets. Along with sturdy leather boots, well-made leather belt, and what looked to be trousers made from sturdy deerskin. There was also a sturdy, well-worn looking rucksack slung over one of Bryran's shoulders. The elven archer came to the conclusion that the man was a fine warrior, though not a famous one as all his armor and gear was plain and functional and there were none of the ornamental pieces that some warriors felt the need to have in order to display their fame and wealth.

The elf paused for a moment before he replied, "I am Kellindil, and it is a pleasure to meet you, Sir Bryran." He deemed the warrior to not be a threat and pocketed the sharpened wolf fang he had been holding while he moved back to his former position by the still-burning fire, though he kept a watchful eye on the human warrior, just in case.

Bryran followed the elf's lead and took a seat on the opposite side of the fire, looking curiously at the pile of meat on the wolf pelt next to him, and then turned his attention back to Kellindil. He brought one leg up so he could rest his arm across it, with other leg in a partial cross-legged position. He looked at the fire, seeing the meager sticks and twigs being used for kindling, and he knew that the fire wouldn't outlast the rain. A glance at the dirt-encrusted elf confirmed that his uneasy companion knew well the truth of that assessment.

Both human warrior and elven archer fell into an uneasy silence, neither of them knowing what to say and neither quite trusting the other. It was Kellindil who broke the silence and offered his – guest? Companion? He didn't know which of those terms applied – some wolf meat, and the surprised warrior accepted the offer of a meal.

After having eaten the wolf meat that Kellindil had given him, Bryran noted that the atmosphere was much lighter, and he felt able to try and start a conversation with the elf. "I see you are injured, might I inquire as to what happened, Sir Kellindil?" Perhaps not the best way to begin, but the warrior had not known what else to say and he was curious about what had happened to his temporary companion.

Kellindil sighed, feeling his throat ache in remembrance, and he began wryly, "That, Sir Bryran, is a long story…"

And so the elven archer began telling the story (a slightly edited version with no mention of the drow) of what had happened to lead him up to this point: Injured and sharing a meal and a cave with a human warrior while they both waited for the storm to let up.

**Well, what did you all think of my original character? I liked how I introduced him and I think I might keep him around in this story for awhile. Your thoughts on him? I'm sure I can find a bunch of things that will make Kellindil's trip to Coldwood a lot longer! ^_^ By the way, I'm feeling a bit under the weather, so I might take a bit longer updating. Anyway, please read and review! Constructive criticism is welcome.**


	6. Chapter 6

The rain lasted all through the day and well into the night, as did Kellindil's and Bryran's talks.

After the elven archer had finished his tale, both human and elf had fallen silent until Bryran had offered Kellindil the use of several rolls of bandages that he kept in his pack, and Kellindil had gratefully accepted. Once his scratched leg and multitude of other cuts and bruises had been tended to, the elf had cooked some more of the wolf meat and shared it with the human warrior. Bryran had then taken out his bedroll, along with a spare one he kept with him just in case, and they had both bedded down on either side of the fire for the night, Kellindil saying a heart felt thank you to the warrior as he was greatly relieved that he didn't have to slip into reverie sitting up against the wall again.

They had both rested for the remainder of the night, though when both awakened the next morning they were dismayed to find that the rain was still pouring down, and it didn't look like it would let up anytime soon. After a quick breakfast of more wolf meat (this time seasoned with a few spice leaves Bryran had picked up but never used) the human warrior tipped his head back and looked up at the stone ceiling, thinking over the events that had led up to _him_ being in the situation he was currently in.

Kellindil noticed his companion seemed in thought, and he asked curiously, "Tell me, what brings you here to Dead Orc Pass? Surely you could find your sword arm welcome elsewhere." He didn't say it to be rude, though it did occur to him that it could be taken that way, but he knew for a fact that there was bound to be easier work for a warrior than negotiating the Pass.

Fortunately, Bryran was too deep in his thoughts to take offense to the elf's ill-worded question, and he chuckled slightly under his breath before telling his companion, a hint of laughter in his voice, "Well, that is a story to tell, and as it looks as though we have more than enough time for it to be told, let me warn you that it doesn't exactly reflect well on my skills as a warrior…" His lips quirked up at Kellindil's openly curious expression – it seemed that he now had the elf's undivided attention – and he began to speak, "It started while I was helping to escort a trading caravan from Waterdeep to Memnon, I suppose. We, the other members of the caravan and I, were about halfway there when I got into an…argument, I guess you could say," _More like shouting match_, he thought to himself before continuing, "With the wizard helping to guard the caravan. You see, he'd almost killed several of the other guards with a fireball during a fight with a group of bandits trying to rob the caravan. Thankfully the other guards had seen the fireball and managed to get out of the way in time," Which was more than could be said for six unlucky bandits, "but I had a feeling that the wizard hadn't cared if the other guards had gotten hit by the fireball or not. I wouldn't have believed that if I hadn't heard him cursing under his breath after the others escaped, so I called him on it.

Unfortunately, it quickly got out of hand and we wound up shouting at each other, which attracted the other guards, including the ones that had almost been incinerated. The argument ended when the leader of the caravan shouted for us to start moving again, and I thought that was the end of it." He shrugged one shoulder and continued, getting to the part that didn't reflect well on his skills as a warrior, "However, the wizard decided he wanted some revenge and as I was coming back from relieving myself in the woods, he jumped out from behind a tree and hit me over the head with an iron frying pan." Bryran stopped talking when Kellindil burst out laughing, and the warrior chuckled a bit at himself as he waited for the elf to regain his composure. It took several minutes before Kellindil stopped laughing and Bryran continued his story with a grin on his lips, "Yeah, that's what I thought too, before I lost consciousness that is. From what I gathered when I woke up outside of Sundabar, after the wizard knocked me out, he opened a portal to a remote place and then tossed me into it."

Bryran snorted when Kellindil kept snickering for almost ten minutes after his story ended, but then he frowned thoughtfully as something occurred to him, and he chuckled under his breath as he mused aloud, "You know, Galen probably wasn't that happy when I disappeared in the middle of the journey. That is bad news for the wizard responsible."

The warrior didn't elaborate, so Kellindil prodded him curiously, "Why would that be bad news?"

Bryran frowned thoughtfully before saying, "Well, I guess it's not so much Galen that the wizard should be afraid of, rather it's Galen's friend that he would do well to be terrified of." The warrior didn't say anything else on the subject, no matter how much Kellindil inquired.

Finally the elven archer gave up on that line of questioning and instead glanced towards the cave entrance idly, only to perk up when he noticed that the rain, which had so far been coming down in sheets, had begun to slow. He immediately changed position until he was crouching and facing the entrance to the cave, telling a curious Bryran in a tone that told all it needed to about his elation, "Look! The rain is beginning to slow! With any luck, we shall both be on our way within a few hours!" The elf was extremely relieved, as the rain had already added almost three days to his journey.

The warrior looked just as excited and promptly began packing the bedrolls, swiftly stowing them in his pack as Kellindil began rolling the wolf pelt around the remaining wolf meat, making sure that none of it would fall out. By the time the two of them were done packing everything away and Kellindil had grabbed his walking stick, the sharpened wolf fang still his pocket, the rain had almost completely stopped and the sun had begun to shine through the clouds. At the sight of those first rays of sunlight, the elven archer barely restrained himself from cheering and instead smiled happily.

By the time the elf managed to put out the fire, the rain had stopped completely and the clouds had begun to disperse, which both Bryran and Kellindil noted with a sense of relief. Ideally, they would have waited for the ground to dry out some before leaving the cave, but as Kellindil was anxious to resume his journey and Bryran wanted to reach a town as soon as possible, both warrior and elf decided to chance getting muddy over waiting another day or so in a rather cramped cave.

After they both crawled out of the entrance of the cave, the first thing they did was stretch, loosening the muscles that had tightened over the few days of inactivity. Kellindil had somewhat reluctantly given the wolf pelt and the wolf meat to Bryran, since the warrior would be able to carry it in his pack easier than the elf would have been able to carry it in his arms, and the elf found himself glad of his choice as he stretched his arms above his head, one hand still holding his walking stick.

Kellindil leaned slightly on his walking stick, noting that his scratched leg wasn't hurting nearly as much as it had been the day before when Bryran had first given him the bandages, and he was relieved to also note that his throat was only stinging slightly as opposed to throbbing like it had been. Pleased that his injuries were on the mend, Kellindil glanced over at Bryran in time to see the warrior lowering his arms from his own stretch. The elf smiled slightly as he asked the warrior curiously, "So, Sir Bryran, where are you headed now that the rain has let up?"

Bryran shrugged slightly as he shifted his pack into a more comfortable position and replied, "I'm not entirely sure, as it is surely too late to rejoin the caravan I had been guarding unless I can find a wizard willing to open a portal to Memnon." The warrior exchanged glances with the elf, both knowing how likely _that_ was to happen, and then continued, "I suppose I will turn and head back to Sundabar, and then make my way to Adbar in search of a wizard to transport me to one of the larger cities."

Kellindil hummed thoughtfully in his throat, glancing around and then looking back at Bryran when something occurred to him and he had to ask, "What were you doing here in the Pass anyway?"

The warrior smirked as he replied dryly, "Believe it or not, I was hunting orcs. A man in Sundabar put out a notice that he would pay six gold pieces per orcs' ear that you bring him. I had just arrived in the Pass to begin my hunt when it began raining and I was forced to seek shelter. Then, well, you know the rest of the story." He shrugged casually as he looked around, scanning the area to make sure that there were no enemies about. He pondered the wisdom of continuing his hunt for orcs, but then decided that perhaps he should pursue less dangerous work for the time being.

Kellindil chuckled slightly under his breath, and then paused as something occurred to him and he casually said, "You know what my plans are, but as you can see, I'm not exactly in the best of conditions to be traveling alone. Perhaps you might consider traveling with me? At least until we reach Coldwood that is." He scarcely dared to breathe as he waited for Bryran's answer, since he had been telling the truth when he had said he wasn't in the best condition to be traveling alone, and he knew that he couldn't be as lucky as he had been all the time, so a traveling companion would be a great help on his journey. And he wasn't too proud to admit that he would welcome the company.

Bryran arched an eyebrow and didn't answer immediately, thinking over the elf's request. He didn't have to think it over very long though, and he replied after a few moments, "Very well, I'll gladly travel with you until we reach Coldwood." He exchanged smiles with Kellindil, since he also knew that four eyes were better than two, and the elf's sharp ears could be very helpful indeed. Also, he had to admit that it would be pleasant to have someone to talk to on the long trek to Coldwood, and Coldwood wasn't that far away from Adbar. The advantages of traveling with Kellindil far outweighed the disadvantages, at least as far as he was concerned.

The elven archer grinned before saying, "Well then, let us be off if we want to make any progress on our journey this day!" After having said that, he suited actions to words as he began walking in the direction of Coldwood, leaning on his walking stick slightly due to his leg, knowing that if they followed the Pass they would reach the home of his kin.

The warrior chuckled slightly as he adjusted his pack and set off after his new traveling companion, swiftly catching up to the limping elf and walking beside him, laughing a bit when the elf nearly tripped over a rock and almost fell flat on his face.

To his credit, Bryran did make sure Kellindil was steady on his feet before he started laughing.

**So Kellindil and Bryran are now traveling together, but that doesn't mean things are going to be smooth sailing! *Laughs evilly* I'll you to wonder about what that evil laugh meant, so please read and review! Constructive criticism is welcome!**


	7. Chapter 7

Bryran and Kellindil hadn't made much progress between when the rain stopped and when night fell, but both were glad to have made any progress on their journey at all, considering how long they had been delayed. When night had fallen, they had found a space beneath an overhang in which to make camp, though it was less comfortable than the small cave they had stayed in to wait out the previous days of rain. The warrior had taken the first watch, since both he and the elf knew that for both of them to sleep through the night would be beyond foolish, and had woken the elf for Kellindil to keep watch for the remainder of the night.

The human and the elf had packed up the small camp they had made under the overhang and set off as soon as the sun had fully risen, and now they were both keeping their eyes and ears open for danger as they trekked through the Pass. They were deep in orc territory, and neither had any mind to be caught off guard by a band of the monsters.

The elven archer glanced around, his sharp eyes pinpointing the most likely places for ambushes to be set up, and he silently brought them to Bryran's attention, getting a nod of acknowledgement from the warrior in return. Kellindil was glad that he had asked the human to accompany him and that the man had accepted, as having someone to guard his back made him feel like a huge weight had been lifted off of his shoulders, and he felt as though he were walking on air, especially since his throat hurt even less than it had the previous day. He leaned only slightly on his walking stick as he walked, and he glanced up at the sky for a moment to gauge the time. Shielding his eyes with one hand, he guessed it to be about two hours before midday. He lowered his hand and blinked to clear his gaze as he looked back down and paused for a moment to listen for any unnatural sounds.

Bryran waited patiently for Kellindil to get his bearings, and he didn't have to wait very long before the elf reported, "It is about two hours before midday, and I don't hear anything strange, but we had best be on our guard." The elven archer added the last part because given his recent run of luck the second they relaxed they would be ambushed by orcs, or worse. He abruptly stopped that line of thought so as not to tempt fate, and instead kept his eyes and ears open for any signs that might indicate traps or an ambush.

The warrior eyed his companion and then said thoughtfully, "If it is as late as you say, then perhaps we should look for a place to take a brief rest and a quick meal." He was conscious of his companion's injuries, and the last thing he wanted to do was push the elf and make those injuries worse.

Kellindil frowned, but he understood Bryran's line of thought and he nodded in agreement, replying as he did so, "Very well. You look for a place for us to take our rest as we walk, and I shall keep an eye out for enemies." The elf and the human began walking again, having come to a quick agreement, and the next hour passed by quickly while they traveled.

It was Bryran who first found something, and it was entirely by accident that he did. He had paused and leaned against a boulder to take a breath and look around more thoroughly for a place for his companion and him to rest and eat a small meal, only to yelp when he slid _through_ the rock. Or at least, it looked like he had gone through the rock, when in reality he had slid _behind_ the boulder. Kellindil had tensed in alarm at his companion's disappearance, but he had been able to relax and even chuckle when Bryran's head had appeared from the hidden tunnel behind the boulder and told him to come and take a look at what he had discovered.

There was a large alcove behind the boulder that Bryran had leaned against, and the boulder had been placed or had fallen in such a way as to completely hide and block the entrance to the large alcove save for a small space that resembled a hallway that led into the alcove. It was an easily defensible position, and would no doubt be nigh impossible for orcs to find unless they were searching for the entrance specifically.

The two companions promptly found a level place where they could start a small cooking fire, and Bryran pulled out the remaining wolf meat while Kellindil gathered loose sticks and leaves that had blown in through the hidden entrance.

Thanks to the flint that Bryran carried with him, it was the work of a moment to get a fire started, and within a half hour Bryran and Kellindil were enjoying a small meal.

Kellindil carefully tested his food, not wanting to burn his tongue on the wolf meat, and when he was certain that the meat wasn't going to scald his tongue and further injure his throat he took a bite out of the cooked meat, chewing carefully as he savored the taste. Even though he should by all rights be heartily sick of wolf meat by now, he was too happy to have some meat in his diet and a traveling companion to even think about complaining about the food.

The elf and human finished their meal in companionable silence and once they had gotten an hour's rest, they put out the fire and packed up their supplies. Kellindil leaned on his walking stick and let Bryran exit the alcove first, since better the warrior check and see if there were any enemies about than the wounded elf blunder out and become easy prey. When Bryran called back to say that it was clear, Kellindil slipped out of the alcove and joined his companion in the main Pass.

Bryran glanced over at Kellindil and said lightly, grinning as he did so, "Well then, now that we've had a meal and some rest, what say we start walking?"

Kellindil responded by rolling his eyes and starting to walk, limping slightly but otherwise feeling better than he'd had for many days.

The human warrior chuckled under his breath and quickly caught up with the elven archer, matching his companion's pace and helping to keep an eye out for any dangers.

**This is more a filler chapter than anything else, since things are going to start getting interesting the next chapter! ;) Please read and review! Constructive criticism is welcome!**

**Quick Poll: I have a small bit of writer's block, so to help me out, what scenes would you the reviewers like to see? Your suggestion can be vague or specific, and if I like it I'll see if I can work it in. ^_^**


	8. Chapter 8

After an interesting day, in which Kellindil had found a traveling companion (for which he was profoundly grateful), the night passed by uneventfully and Bryran and Kellindil were awake, packed, and traveling by the time that the sun had fully risen above the horizon.

The elven archer found himself telling Bryran about his friends, feeling nostalgic and at the same time amused by the memories, and he was in the middle of describing Freth's obsession with cleanliness – not something you would expect a dwarf to care about by any stretch of the imagination – when Bryran held up a hand for silence, the warrior's dark brown eyes staring at the ground with an intense look. The elf immediately saw why, and he kept quiet as he looked around warily, sharp blue eyes examining every nook and cranny for hidden enemies while Bryran examined the orc footprint on the ground.

Bryran finally raised his eyes from the ground and shook his head, signally that the footprint wasn't fresh, and then said aloud, "The print is at least two days old, so it isn't likely that the one who made it is still in the area. We should proceed with caution though, as we might cross paths with the one this print belongs to later." He didn't need to say that the orc who made the footprint might have been a scout or a rogue who had set up an ambush further along in the Pass. The warrior glanced at the river that ran through the middle of the Pass, sure that if anything attempted to ambush them from the other side, both he and Kellindil would be well aware of it before the enemies reached them.

Kellindil relaxed minutely as he nodded, though he still scanned the surrounding area periodically for enemies, then he told the warrior, "Let us proceed with caution then. It would not do us any favors to be caught unaware by an orc ambush." Especially with him in the condition he was in, went unsaid though both were aware that the odds of them escaping an ambush while the elven archer was injured were not good.

The traveling companions continued on their way, though they were more alert and their eyes continually scanned the area around them, and conversation between them was sparse, the previous levity of the morning gone with the knowledge that there might be orcs about, waiting to ambush and kill unwary travelers.

Over the next three hours the elf and warrior made their way through the Pass, gradually relaxing when they saw neither hide nor hair of an orc. They still kept their guard up and their senses alert for danger, but they felt comfortable enough to begin making small conversation as they made their way through the Pass, and Kellindil resumed his tales of his friends' idiosyncrasies – starting with the dwarf sage Fret's obsession with cleanliness and abhorrence of all manner of dirt. Bryran was greatly amused by the stories of Fret's struggle to get the ranger Dove Falconhand into suitable attire for formal occasions.

The human warrior chuckled as he said in jest, "It sounds as though the ranger suffered more than the dwarf!"

Kellindil had to laugh at that since he himself had sometimes thought that very same thing. He had seen some of shoes that Dove had had to wear to those aforementioned formal occasions, and he very much agreed that Dove Falconhand had obviously suffered more than Fret for wearing the things. The two companions enjoyed a good laugh over that, and Bryran launched into a tale that involved himself, a drunken halfling, and a very irritable wizard, causing Kellindil to laugh so hard that he had to lean on his walking stick lest he fall to the ground in laughter.

Bryran concluded his tale amidst the elven archer's gasps of laughter, and grinned in amusement as he looked at the chortling elf. He waited for his companion to regain his composure before they set off walking again, having stopped so that Kellindil could gain control over his laughter. A quick check revealed that more than half the day had gone by, but they both agreed that they could journey for several hours more before they had to search for a place to make camp for the night.

Accompanied by the sound of the running river, the warrior and the elf continued chatting as they walked, relaying humorous stories from their adventures and enjoying the chance to laugh. Kellindil had to pause numerous times to lean on his walking stick as he laughed, as apparently Bryran had had quite a number of misadventures, and he had to sometimes wipe tears of laughter from the corner of his eyes. The elven archer was glad to be able to tell some rather hilarious tales of his own, most of them featuring his friends, as he felt a bit guilty for holding up their progress so he could laugh without fear of falling over.

The human warrior grinned so widely that the muscles in his face were beginning to hurt, and he laughed heartily as Kellindil concluded an especially funny story involving the dwarf sage Fret and a particularly deep and foul mud puddle. He had to stop and place a hand against his chest to help him stop laughing as he struggled to get his mirth under control. He had to admit to himself that the first day of their traveling together was turning out to be amusing indeed, and he was glad of the opportunity to share laughter with his elven companion.

Kellindil was equally glad to be able to share stories with Bryran, and he was amused by the thought of what his friends would say if they knew that _he_ of all people was telling stories about them. Usually it was Gabriel or Dove herself who told amusing tales of their adventures together.

The elven archer glanced over at the warrior as they walked, the sound of their storytelling having faded into companionable silence, and he smiled as he caught sight of the man glancing around to make sure that there were no enemies about. The elf perked his ears up as he scanned for the sound of boots shuffling over rock, or of weapons being drawn, thinking that just because he and Bryran had been enjoying themselves didn't give him an excuse to lower his guard in such dangerous territory as Dead Orc Pass.

Another hour passed in easy silence as they continued on, and it seemed that the day would pass uneventfully. _Seemed_ being the correct word, as Kellindil's sharp ears detected the sound of rough voices and the thump of fists meeting flesh. The elf quickly raised his hand and gestured, alerting Bryran to the fact that they were no longer alone, and the warrior nodded quickly before moving ahead to scout what was happening. Kellindil moved off to the side and concealed himself inside a recess in the cliff so he would be harder to see and leaned on his walking stick as he waited anxiously for his companion to come back and tell him what was happening.

The elf kept his eyes and ears open for anything unusual, peering out from his hiding place cautiously, and it was only because of that that he saw Bryran leaning around a small bend in the Pass and motioning for him to come and see something. He immediately moved out of his hiding place and made his way to the warrior as quickly as he could, wincing when his leg began stinging again, the cuts on his leg from his earlier battle with the wolf still not completely healed. He approached the bend where Bryran had been motioning from, and he barely restrained the urge to yelp when a hand lashed out and grabbed his upper arm, dragging him down into a crouching position.

Kellindil relaxed a bit when he saw that it was Bryran who had a hold of his arm, and he nodded when he saw the warrior motioning for him to stay quiet. The elven archer followed the human warrior's lead and cautiously peered over the boulders they were hiding behind, feeling a ball of dread beginning to form in the pit of his stomach as he caught sight of what Bryran had wanted him to see.

_Orcs._

Three of the monsters to be exact, and the two companions exchanged wary glances before looking back at the spectacle in front of them.

Two of the orcs were fighting, one of them dressed in little more than a beaten leather breastplate that had definitely seen better days and a loincloth held up by a belt, and the other one, markedly bigger, was wearing a leather breastplate in far better condition than its' fellow's on top of what looked to be a linen shirt and a pair of leather breeches along with a tattered leather belt. Both orcs were wielding clubs and it seemed as though they were attempting to bash each other's skulls in, and the third orc, this one almost two full heads shorter than the other two and wearing only a pair of linen breeches and a belt over one shoulder, was cowering back against the cliff wall and seemed to be praying that the others wouldn't see him. The grunts and roars of the fighting orcs was what Kellindil had heard, along with the occasional shouted insult in goblin-speak.

Bryran glanced over at Kellindil and caught the elf's eye, silently communicating to his companion that they should wait until the battling orcs had beaten each other senseless, and the winning orc had most likely killed the loser, before they moved, either to ambush the three – soon to be two, if the slowing movements of the smaller orc were any indication – or sneak around the fight. The elven archer nodded his head slightly to indicate his agreement and then warrior and elf turned their eyes back to the fight, which was drawing to a close as the smaller of the fighting orcs stumbled and the other's club swing connected solidly with the smaller's ribs.

The loud crack of breaking ribs was audible even to Bryran, who didn't have Kellindil's keen ears, and he copied the elf's and smallest orc's wince.

The larger orc roared in victory as he raised his club over his downed opponent in preparation for a killing blow, grunting when the smaller orc managed to muster the strength to swing his club into the larger orc's stomach. The blow didn't do much more than wind the larger orc slightly, but it did delay the downward swing of the larger monster's club long enough for the smaller orc to roll out of range and struggle to his feet. Orcs were fighters by nature, savage and brutal, and the smaller green-skinned monster was no different from the rest of his kin in that he wouldn't let a small injury like half of his ribs being broken stop him from fighting as hard as he could and hopefully dealing his foe some painful injuries before he died.

The smaller orc bellowed in challenge, his roar echoed by the larger orc as they both lunged at each other and swung their clubs, each aiming for the other's skull. The clubs collided before the orcs did, splinters flying from the impact of the clubs, and a series of roars and growls issued from the tangle of green limbs as the battling orcs punched, kicked, and bit at the other. There was a high-pitched squeal of pain, and the smaller of the fighting orcs rolled out of the tangle of limbs, clutching both hands to his bleeding face. The larger orc had raked his talons across his foe's face, effectively blinding the smaller orc in one eye and pretty much crippling his opponent.

Another loud roar, this one of victory, issued from the large green brute as he picked up his mangled club and raised it above his head in preparation for the final blow. The smaller orc was writhing in pain from the wound to his eye, and didn't see his doom approaching until it was too late. The club came down and connected with the smaller orc's skull, the sound of crunching bone audible even to Bryran and drawing a wince from the watching elf and human, and the now-dead orc twitched several times before the body lay still and the victorious orc raised his club and roared in triumph.

Kellindil curled his lip in disgust at the brutish display, the old hatred between elves and orcs rising in him, and he glanced at Bryran to see what the warrior wanted to do. He was still injured, and it would be foolhardy to ambush the orcs without the human's support, so he would go with whatever course of action that Bryran decided on. The elven archer looked into his companion's eyes, his own blue gaze asking the man what he wanted to do.

Bryran frowned and furrowed his brow in thought, knowing that he couldn't take too long in thinking lest the remaining two orcs sense that they were being observed, and the last thing he wanted was a fight with two orcs while his only ally was still injured. Finally, the warrior glanced over at Kellindil and caught the elf's eye, silently shaking his head and indicating that they should retreat and try and find a way to go around the two orcs. The elf nodded back in agreement and the traveling companions ducked back down behind the boulder they had been peering over, preparing to back away as slowly as they could from the battle-crazed orc and try to figure out a plan that would enable them to go around the two orcs without them having to waste a days' travel backtracking.

Unfortunately, Kellindil's leg decided to remind them that it still wasn't fully healed and as soon as the elf's feet touched the ground it buckled, moving several rocks and creating just enough noise to alert the adrenaline-high orc celebrating his recent victory that there were possibly more foes behind the nearby boulder.

Bryran and Kellindil both spat curses in various languages in their minds, the elf using his walking stick as leverage to regain his feet and the warrior drawing his sword as both moved to a more open area. They both knew that neither of them could possibly best the large orc in hand-to-hand combat, so it would be better to have room to maneuver if it came down to a fight, which Bryran and Kellindil knew it would. The elven archer quietly slipped his hand into his pocket and withdrew the sharpened wolf fang, having a sinking feeling that he would need a weapon that could be used at close range.

The 'open area' they retreated to was really just a wider part of the canyon a little ways behind the boulder they had been peering over, and Bryran pressed his back against the canyon wall as he held his sword in a ready position. Kellindil spotted a slight ledge that overlooked the open area and managed, with extreme effort, to climb up it and crouch there to take advantage of the higher viewpoint. He had left his walking stick at the bottom of the incline leading up to the ledge out of necessity, but he held the sharpened wolf fang firmly in his hand in case he got the opportunity to attack from the ledge.

It didn't take long for the large orc to arrive on their chosen battlefield, though what the elf and warrior hadn't been expecting was for the large green-skinned brute to be dragging the smallest orc behind him, the previously cowering orc obviously wanting to get as far away from what was happening as possible. The larger orc bellowed something in his native tongue, obviously an insult, when he saw Bryran standing in a fighting stance with his sword drawn, and then tossed the smaller orc he'd been dragging to ground at the bottom of the ledge Kellindil was watching from. The battle-crazed orc roared in challenge as he held up the shattered remains of his club and then charged towards Bryran, aiming to overwhelm the human with superior size and strength.

Kellindil shifted his attention from the fight starting across the battlefield, knowing that Bryran would be able to take care of himself, and instead focused on the orc cowering on the ground below him. His blue eyes narrowed and he tensed in preparation for striking the small orc below him, knowing that he would only get one easy shot before the green monster struck back. The elven archer also knew that he would have no hope of winning a hand-to-hand fight against even the small orc in his condition, so he had to make his one attack count.

The small orc moved slightly, creeping forward to get a better look at the battle between the larger orc and the human warrior, and Kellindil knew that his time for thinking was up. Before he could take the time to second guess himself, the elven archer acted and jumped from the ledge, aiming to land on the orc and put the sharpened wolf fang in his hand to use.

The next few moments happened in a blur; Kellindil landed on the small orc and drove the wolf fang down towards the monster's neck, but the orc began thrashing about and threw off the elf's aim. Instead of the orc's throat, the wolf fang drew blood from the small orc's arm as it created a deep wound along one green forearm. Then things turned against Kellindil since, cowardly or not, an orc was still an orc and all orcs shared the same battle instincts. The small orc that the elf had landed on was no different, and the sight of blood awakened those battle instincts. The orc roared, starting to thrash even harder and fight back against his attacker, his clawed hands flailing around in an effort to wound the elf.

Kellindil ground his teeth and sucked in a sharp breath when one of the orc's thrashing limbs – he couldn't tell which one – struck one of his healing bruises and sent waves of pain up and down his body. The elven archer was a veteran fighter though, and he was able to maintain his focus in order to avoid the orc's sloppy follow-up strikes. He tightened his grip on the sharp wolf fang and struck out with it again, smirking when the small orc squealed in pain, the wolf fang having sliced into the monster's face and cut down to the bone. The elf didn't have time to celebrate, however, as the new pain served to reenergize the orc and the green-skinned monster landed a hit on another of Kellindil's healing bruises, this time sending shockwaves of pain through his arm and shoulder.

The small orc roared again, sensing his attacker was weakening, and his flailing increased in an effort to strike the elf again. The elf grit his teeth and avoided the clumsy strikes, lunging forward with the wolf fang and aiming to bury the fang in the orc's neck, wanting to end the fight quickly.

Luck was with the blond elf, it seemed, as the wolf fang found its mark and sunk deep into the small orc's throat, severing the vein there and causing the monster to stumble back. Kellindil breathed heavily as he watched orc fall backwards, limbs twitching spastically before the now-dead orc laid still, blood pooling under the body. The elf slowly regained his feet, stumbling over to the body as his heartbeat pounded in his ears, and he quickly pulled the wolf fang from the orc's throat, grimacing at the sight of the blood on his hands. He quickly wiped the fang off on the orc's linen pants before he looked towards where Bryran had been fighting the larger orc, only to blink in surprise.

Bryran was leaning on his sword and panting slightly, while the large orc was on the ground with a shocked look on his face, the stab wound in his chest plainly telling how the monster had died. It appeared that Bryran's armor had protected him from the worst of the orc's blows, but Kellindil had no doubt that the warrior would have several bruises to show from the fight. The elf winced as his own injuries sent waves of pain through his body, and he pocketed the sharpened wolf fang as he limped over to where he had left his walking stick and lamented the fact that the orc he had fought had had to strike his healing bruises.

Kellindil had just picked up his walking stick and was leaning on it heavily when Bryran walked over him, the warrior sheathing his blade as he did so.

Bryran smiled slightly as he looked over at Kellindil and asked him, "Are you alright? That orc had more fight in him than I though." The warrior's brown eyes swiftly looked over his companion and assessed the elf's injuries.

Kellindil nodded to Bryran and continued leaning on his walking stick as he replied, "I am fine. The orc managed to hit several of my healing injuries, but I can go on until nightfall." Which wasn't that far away, the elven archer saw after a quick check of the sky.

Bryran also noticed how much time had passed since the beginning of the fight, and he smiled slightly as he answered, "Very well. Let us see if these monsters had anything of value on them before we continue on." Kellindil's only reply was a nod and a smile, so the two traveling companions turned and walked back to their respective opponents before they began checking the bodies to see what items the orcs had on them.

The search of the bodies took very little time, with both orcs having only a total of sixteen copper coins between them, and as neither the elf or the warrior had any interest in the monster's clothes they were able to move on quickly. The traveling companions went back to where the two orcs had fought each other to see if the monsters had had any equipment that might be useful, Kellindil moving slower than he had earlier that day and leaning heavily on his walking stick and Bryran keeping his pace slow so as not to cause the elven archer to push himself too hard and aggravate his injuries even further.

Bryran searched around the site of the orcs' battle while Kellindil leaned against the nearby boulder and rested, and the warrior grinned widely when he poked around where the smallest orc had been cowering and uncovered something that was sure to lift his elven companion's spirits. He picked up the objects and called out to Kellindil as he straightened up, keeping the items hidden from the elf's sight for the moment, "My friend, you will not believe what I have found!" The elf's ears perked up, and Kellindil's sharp blue eyes focused on Bryran's back as he thought.

Kellindil smirked as he playful shot back, "What is it? Clothing that doesn't have holes in it, or perhaps food that has actually been cooked?"

The elf's jests brought a laugh out of Bryran, and the warrior turned around so that Kellindil could see the objects he was holding as he smiled and countered, "I am afraid not, my elven friend, but these are something you will like even more!" Kellindil's eyes were wide in excitement when he saw the objects for what they were: A bow and a quiver of arrows. The elven archer straightened up as the warrior walked over and handed the bow and quiver of arrows to him, and Kellindil wasted no time in slinging the quiver over his shoulder, taking a moment to adjust the strap so it fit more comfortably before he began testing the bow.

Kellindil plucked the bow string a few times and smiled, his injuries forgotten for the time being in the excitement of finally holding a bow in his hands again, and he cried joyfully, "Wonderful! A fine bow for such inferior orc workmanship!" He slung the bow over his back so that it rested next to the quiver, and then winced when his throat throbbed and his bruises joined in to protest his movements.

Bryran smiled as he watched the elf's excitement over the bow, then frowned when he caught his companion's wince. He looked around and muttered to Kellindil, "Perhaps we should move on and find a place to make camp for the night before the carrion birds start to gather and worse monsters come to see what has died here?"

Kellindil didn't argue, and they swiftly gathered up any useful supplies, such as a coarse blanket and some seasoning herbs, and put them in Bryran's pack next to the wolf pelt before they set off up the Pass again, hoping to find a defensible place to make camp for the night.

**Whew! This chapter did not want to be written! I'm not entirely happy with the fight scene, since I don't think it flowed as well as my usual writing. :-/ But practice makes perfect! Hopefully I'll get better at writing fight scenes as the story progresses. Since I only had one review for the last chapter (you know who you are!) I decided to use her suggestion of an encounter with orcs and finding a bow. Hope you liked it! Please read and review! Constructive criticism is welcome!**


	9. Chapter 9

Bryran and Kellindil had managed to find a suitable place to set up camp only moments before the sun finally set, and they had wasted no time in setting up a place to spend the night, taking only the barest of essentials out of Bryran's pack. They had slept in shifts, both uneasy because of the encounter with the orcs, though Kellindil had stayed awake almost the entire night because of his painful bruises and throbbing throat. When morning came, it hardly took them more than fifteen minutes to break camp and pack everything up, and they were on their way only five minutes after that.

They had to keep their pace slow because of their newly acquired or – in Kellindil's case – aggravated bruises, but they were relieved to be making at least a little progress in their journey towards Coldwood. They were especially vigilant, as they didn't know if the three orcs from before were part of Graul's band, or another group, and conversation was kept to a minimum, unlike the amiable chatting from the previous day.

The elven archer was leaning heavily on his walking stick, once more thankful to have found the fallen branch, though his spirit was lighter than it been when he'd first dragged himself out of his shallow grave because of the discovery of both a traveling companion and a bow and quiver of arrows. The elf's lips were raised in a slight smile as he walked beside Bryran, his keen ears perked up and alert for any sounds that might betray the presence of enemies.

The warrior was looking around with sharp brown eyes, scanning the surrounding area for any hiding places that might hold monsters waiting to ambush them. His bruises stung, but he suspected that they were nothing compared to his companion's injuries, if the slow pace the elf had to walk at was anything to go by. He suspected that they wouldn't make much progress on their journey until the bruises from their run-in with the orcs began to fade, but every little bit helped, as the saying went. The human glanced at his elven companion again before he turned his attention back to the surrounding area, already starting to miss the easy camaraderie from the previous day.

Kellindil also missed the easy conversation and amiable atmosphere from the other day, but they couldn't risk talking too much and alerting any other orcs nearby to the fact that they were passing through. Any monster, upon seeing the state the elf was in, would jump at the chance to attack them and try to score an easy meal. Of course, there was a chance that the three orcs they had encountered had been rogues and there weren't any others nearby, but it wouldn't be wise to take that chance and then lead more of the monsters right to them.

The two companions walked for at least five hours before they stopped for a small meal, drink of water, and to relieve themselves behind some sparse shrubbery, then they set off again after the short break. Bryran was concerned about Kellindil pushing himself and making his injuries worse, but the elf was determined to make some progress towards Coldwood and his kin. It had already taken far, far longer than he'd originally thought to make it as far as he had, though he was grateful that Bryran had agreed to travel with him.

The elven archer grimaced when his head began to itch something fierce, and after he scratched his head he scowled at the sight of the dirt that now covered his hand, sharply bringing back the memory of how filthy he actually was. The dirt turning his formerly blond hair dark brown had dried and whenever he touched the dirty strands, flaks of dirt and mud fell to the ground or on to his already filthy clothes. The elf grimaced again when he scratched an itch behind one of his ears and dislodged a clod of dirt from behind the appendage.

Bryran noticed his elven companion scratching at his head and behind his ears, and he couldn't resist snickering and saying, upon seeing the glare that Kellindil leveled at him, "I apologize, but I had forgotten that your hair was not naturally that color!" He let loose a full-blown laugh after saying that, a pleased grin spreading across his face when the elf let out a soft chuckle of his own.

Kellindil chuckled again, now finding the humor in his situation, even if his head was now itching like crazy. He found himself joking with Bryran over the massive amount of dirt covering his hair, "I cannot begin to tell you how many times before we met that I wished to come across a waterfall. Of course, the last time I made that wish I had to fight and kill a wolf, so perhaps I should not tempt fate by making such a wish again!" Both warrior and elf had to laugh at that, the tense atmosphere from the past few hours gone with those few laughs. The two traveling companions relaxed a bit, though they still kept a wary eye and – in the case of the elven archer – ear out for enemies.

Bryran launched into a tale involving him, a paranoid gnome, and a Halfling with the unfortunate name of Apple Barrel as they walked. Halfway through the story, Kellindil had to stop and lean heavily on his walking stick lest he fall to the ground laughing and further aggravate his bruises. His throat was beginning to ache from his mirth, but he was too relieved to have the camaraderie returned to the air around them to care.

Once the warrior finished his tale, the elven archer began his own story involving his good friends Gabriel and Dove and how they had once gotten caught half naked in the fountain of the Lady of Silverymoon's palace. This time it was Bryran who had to stop walking lest he start rolling on the ground in laughter while Kellindil grinned widely in mirth and continued his story over the warrior's laughter.

**An author on my story alert played an April Fools joke by saying that the new chapter was the last one, and I was freaking out about it until I read the author's note at the end. -_-; I thought about doing the same thing, but I realized that I wasn't that evil, though Kellindil might disagree with me there. ^_^ this is a place holder chapter more than anything else, but I wanted to get something posted.**


	10. Chapter 10

The remainder of the day passed by quickly and peacefully, as did the following night.

Bryran and Kellindil again slept in shifts, both grateful that the night passed uneventfully, and both woke up feeling refreshed and rested – with the exception of Kellindil, who muttered very unkind words towards the rock he had apparently slept on during the night. The elf's bruises were beginning to heal, but that also meant that they were more sensitive as they mended, which resulted in the elf leaning heavily on his walking stick as he walked and wincing when he swallowed too hard and strained his throat.

The warrior packed up what little supplies they had used to set up their quickly-made camp and within the first few hours of dawn they were continuing their journey towards Coldwood, and instead of the amiable chatting of the previous days a comfortable silence hung over the two companions and neither felt the need to disturb it by speaking. There was a smile on the lips of both the warrior and the elven archer, both recalling the humorous tales that the other had told, and remembering the hilarious stories that hadn't been said.

Bryran couldn't suppress a small chuckle at the memory of some of his more…embarrassing escapades that he hadn't gotten around to sharing with his traveling companion, and from the corner of his eye he saw Kellindil's lips twitching, obviously remembering some funny stories of his own.

The elven archer's lips twitched again at another funny memory before he composed himself and glanced over at the warrior walking beside him. He was truly grateful to have run into Bryran, as he sincerely doubted that he would have escaped from the two orcs alive were it not for the human battling the larger orc while he dealt with the second, smaller orc. Plus, he was able to fall into reverie during the night while Bryran kept watch, since he wouldn't have been able to do that if he were alone for fear of not being able to wake come morning. Yes, he was truly grateful that Bryran had noticed the small cave he had taken shelter in during that rain storm…

Kellindil brought himself out of his thoughts and turned his attention to listening closely to make sure that there were no enemies about. Hearing nothing out of the ordinary, he turned part of his attention back to Bryran and felt it safe enough to strike up a conversation with his traveling companion. He leaned on his walking stick as he turned his head slightly towards the warrior and, almost as if they hadn't stopped talking in the first place, launched into another anecdote as they walked side-by-side through the Pass.

Soon Bryran was chortling along with Kellindil at some of the tales that the elf wove, and they even had to stop several times in order to get their mirth under control so they wouldn't fall over. Pretty soon the amusing stories tapered off into more serious tales of adventure, and Bryran proved willing and able to match tales with Kellindil in that arena. For the next several hours the elf and the warrior took turns telling stories of their adventures, and it soon turned into a sort of friendly contest to see who had had the most amazing adventure.

The elven archer told of the time he and several other elves had ambushed and killed an entire encampment of orcs. The human warrior spoke of the time he and a wizard had snuck into an orc camp and stolen the shaman's staff. Kellindil told of when he and his friends had gone to Memnon and tricked a high-ranking merchant out of several fortunes. Bryran spoke of when he and two acquaintances had snuck into the lair of a dragon and stolen a bag of gold coins while the beast had slept mere yards away. Kellindil told the story of how he and the human warrior Gabriel had outrun an orc hunting party wearing only their boots and helmets when the green-skinned monsters had spotted them bathing. Bryran spoke of how he and the aforementioned two acquaintances had outrun an enraged dragon after the beast had woken up and spotted them sneaking out of its' lair while holding the bag of stolen gold coins.

Kellindil wound up winning the impromptu competition when he told the tale of how he had single-handedly escaped the grasp of an orc chieftain and his shaman with only a dagger and his wits, and Bryran conceded defeat, since the warrior didn't think the elf would believe that surviving three hours alone with one of his acquaintances counted as an amazing adventure. The human smiled as he began playfully joking about some of the more outlandish stories that Kellindil had told, and laughingly accused the elf of making some of them up, and he chortled when the elven archer gave as good as he got and turned the accusation back on him.

The two companions walked for a few more hours, playfully jesting back and forth as though they were old friends, until the sun began to near the horizon and they decided that it would be best to start looking for a place to set up camp for the night. No matter how peaceful the day had been, it could all change in an instant the second night fell, they both knew, years of experience having been a very good teacher in that regard, so the elven archer and the human warrior began looking around for an easily defensible place to set up camp. Which was no easy task, they both knew, and so both of them kept their eyes and ears open as they searched.

It took almost half an hour, honestly a much shorter time than Kellindil had expected, but they eventually found a small alcove in the side of the Pass that would serve them well as a temporary camp since they were only staying there for the night. They wasted no time in setting up a very rough camp, though Bryran had to do most of the work – much to Kellindil's chagrin – since the elf's injuries had begun to pain him even more now that he had stopped moving. The elven archer grimaced as he sat on a large rock, holding his walking stick loosely in one hand, and watched Bryran get a small fire started. He was embarrassed that he could help his companion in even a small way, but both veteran adventurers knew that with injuries as bad as Kellindil's it was best to rest as much as possible and allow them to heal as much as possible.

The elven archer admitted to himself that he _had_ been pushing himself to his current limits and that had probably set his recovery back by any number of days, but his urgency to get to Coldwood and his kin overshadowed his common sense at least somewhat. He thanked Bryran absently when the warrior handed him some dried rations, still lost in his thoughts as he absently ate the simple but filling fare, his throat stinging slightly every time he swallowed, but he had learned to put that small discomfort out of his mind.

Kellindil's mind was still turning when he and his traveling companion bedded down for the night, and the elf was even more grateful to Bryran when the warrior noticed his obvious distraction and volunteered to take the first watch of the night. The elven archer thanked the human again, this time more empathetically, and laid on the hard ground, using the wolf pelt from Bryran's pack as a blanket and closing his eyes in the effort to get at least some rest in spite of his myriad of bruises and cuts that began stinging and aching anew.

**Hey guys! Sorry it took me so long to get this up, but I was besieged by plot bunnies and got distracted from this story. -_-; So now Kellindil has acknowledged that he's pushing himself, and his body is aching something fierce, I wonder what will happen next...^_^ You can guess all you want, but I'm not going to tell you! I'm hoping I'll be able to write a more exciting chapter for the next day of Kellindil's and Bryran's adventures, but that's all I'm going to say on **_**that**_** subject! ;)**

**Quick Poll: Who here has watched Devil May Cry: The Animated Series? No real reason why I'm asking, I'm just curious. ^_^**


	11. Chapter 11

The rest of the night passed uneventfully like the nights before, with the exception of a rabbit that had wandered into the camp during Bryran's watch and which the warrior had quickly killed and skinned, stowing the pelt in his pack and setting the meat to cook slowly so that they would have a quick meal ready for the morning. Kellindil's watch had passed by quickly and peacefully, and both the elven archer and the human warrior were rested and ready to move on when the sun rose on the next day. They dined on the cooked rabbit meat, Kellindil especially savoring it as the only meat he had had for the past tenday and more was wolf meat, and so rabbit meat was a welcome change, even if his throat stung warningly every time he swallowed.

After they finished their meal, the two companions packed up the makeshift camp and set off down the Pass, both excited to be making progress on their journey towards Coldwood. The sun was barely over the horizon, so both Bryran and Kellindil anticipated making headway on their trek down the Pass, since they hadn't been able to cross a noticeable distance in a few days, and both veteran adventurers were eager to make progress. Kellindil was looking forward to being reunited with his kin, and hoped that his bruises and other injuries might have faded some before he got to the last place that his kin had made camp.

The elf dreaded having to explain to his kin and cousins what had happened to cause his injuries, but they deserved to know what had happened, even if it didn't reflect well on his skills as an elven warrior.

Kellindil shook his head, reminding himself that now was not the time for those kinds of thoughts, and that he could feel embarrassed – along with grateful that he was still able to feel embarrassed – once he and his companion reached the home of his kin in Coldwood. The elven archer glanced over at Bryran and saw that his companion looked just as eager as he to make some progress on their journey, since it had already taken them far longer than it should have to travel the distance that they had.

Bryran frowned slightly as he wondered whether or not Kellindil would agree to stop over in Sundabar for supplies, since he only had so many things left in his pack that would be useful for a long journey. Though, given his elven companion's urgent need to get to Coldwood, he doubted that the elf would be open to a short stop in a human settlement. The warrior inwardly sighed before he returned to gazing around the Pass in search of any enemies that might be waiting to ambush them while they were off guard. He said a quick prayer that they did not come across any more orcs on their journey, since Kellindil needed as much time to heal as he could get.

The warrior glanced over at his companion once again, noticing that the elven archer wasn't leaning on his walking stick quite as much as he had been the day before, and Bryran's lips quirked up when he saw that the elf's ears were perked up and his blue eyes were scanning for enemies, the same as the warrior's eyes were. Bryran was amused by how alike they were acting, though he supposed that keeping an eye out for dangers became second nature after a while of traveling and adventuring; both alone and with companions.

Half of the day passed by quickly and peacefully, which both Bryran and Kellindil were thankful for, but after they broke the small camp they had made when they stopped for lunch and began walking again, things changed – and not for the better. Dark clouds began rolling across the sky, slowly at first but then they began to pick up speed until the previously bright and sunny sky was covered with roiling storm clouds. The wind began to blow, and neither Bryran nor Kellindil missed the ominous feeling that came with the weather's change.

The two traveling companions exchanged concerned glances and without speaking sped up their pace as much as they could, Kellindil relying heavily on his walking stick to increase his speed in order to avoid putting any undue strain on his healing injuries. They both knew that the sudden change in the weather could only bode ill for their journey, and they had no desire to be caught in the impending storm, and from the look of the clouds there was no doubt that it would be a fierce one. The winds were already increasing, whipping about with a fury as thunder rumbled above like the roar of an angered dragon. Lightning snapped through the dark clouds like burning whips, and Kellindil was beyond relieved when he managed to spot the entrance to a cave almost completely hidden behind a boulder that looked to have fallen from the top of the cliff.

Bryran ducked inside the cave first and found it to be a decent size, bigger than the cave where he and Kellindil had met at least, and there was more than enough room to stand up which was also a good thing. The warrior paced around the cave once, twice, and then stuck his head out of the cave to let Kellindil know that it was alright to enter the cave. The elven archer had scarcely entered the sanctuary than the clouds opened and rain began to fall in sheets from the skies. The two companions exchanged glances, both relieved to have found shelter before the storm began and both feeling the ominous charge in the air that had come with the sudden change in the weather.

Kellindil sighed wearily and made his way to the middle of the cave where Bryran was already setting up a fire pit using loose stones and twigs from around the decently sized cave, leaning on his walking stick as he did so. The elf slowly eased himself down into a sitting position near the fire pit, wincing and hissing through his teeth as his myriad of cuts and bruises stung and pulled. Bryran glanced up from where he had just gotten a small fire started, and he looked at his elven companion in concern, asking quietly, "Are you alright, my friend?"

The elven archer winced again before he could stop himself – his pride hurting along with his injuries - and reluctantly admitted, "I am fine, a little sore to be sure, but otherwise fine. I am sure that a good night's sleep will do much in easing the pain of my bruises, my friend." He smiled reassuringly, though Bryran seemed unconvinced.

The warrior looked closely at the elf and told him, "Be that as it may, you'd best get some rest. I highly doubt that even orcs will be out and about in this weather." Bryran and Kellindil locked eyes, a battle of wills that ended when Kellindil nodded slightly, accepting that it would be best if he rested and healed as much as possible as quickly as he could. The elven archer took comfort in the fact that the tenderness of his injuries meant that they were healing.

Kellindil moved back from the fire a little more until he could lay down about four feet from the fire, and he curled one arm under his head to use as a pillow as he glanced around the cave: It was at least twice the size of the small cave that had been his home during the previous rainstorm, he estimated, and he noted with relief that the ceiling was high enough that he could upwards without fear of touching the roof with his fingertips. The elf smiled slightly as he looked at Bryran across the fire one more time and then slipped into a deep reverie.

Bryran smiled at the sleeping elf and gently poked at the small fire with a stick to keep it going. He yawned widely, feeling his jaw pop it was stretched so wide, and decided to follow his own advice and get some rest. Using his pack as an improvised pillow and the wolf pelt that Kellindil had given him to carry as a blanket, the warrior drifted off into a well-deserved slumber.

Outside the cave the rain continued to pour down, but weather did nothing to disturb the two companions' rest.

**Hey all! Sorry it took me so long to update, but I've been distracted by other plot bunnies. -_-; Hopefully I'll be able to take care of them and then focus more on this story. I'm sorry this chapter wasn't very exciting, but I thought the guys needed at least one night of uninterrupted sleep. Maybe I'm just not feeling very evil right now? Hmmm…Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the little bit of dialogue I threw in there, and as always constructive criticism is welcome! Please read and review!**


	12. Chapter 12

The storm, having spent much of its' initial fury, had begun to abate by the time Bryran and Kellindil awoke from their much-needed rest.

The elven archer, though still a bit sore, had obviously benefitted from the deep reverie he had slipped into, and his spirits had clearly been lifted by the fact that his throat was not nearly as sore as it had been the last few days, and some of his more minor cuts and bruises had healed. The newly healed skin was still tender, but just knowing that he was well on his way to being fully healed brought a smile to his face. The dirt and grime that turned his blond hair a dark brown had begun to itch anew, and that had somewhat dampened the smile on his face. The elf discreetly scratched at a particularly itchy spot behind his ear and grimaced in disgust at the sight of the dirt that had worked its' way under his nails when he got done scratching.

Kellindil sighed under his breath, his brow furrowing as he tried to think of a way to get his hair clean enough that he wouldn't spend the rest of his journey to Coldwood scratching his head. He lifted his blue eyes from his dirty nails long enough to glare halfheartedly at Bryran when he heard the man chuckle under his breath, and he had to stifle his own smile when he saw the amusement on the warrior's face.

Bryran refrained from laughing when he saw the look on the elf's face, and he tactfully suggested, "The rain has slowed enough that if you wished to, you might wash some of the dirt from your hair, though I have no soap or plants to aid you in removing the evidence of your ordeals." His lips quirked up when Kellindil visibly brightened and practically bounced to his feet.

The elf grabbed his walking stick and moved as quickly as he was able over to the entrance of the cave, staring out at the still-falling rain uncertainly before he shrugged and decided to take Bryran's suggestion. He carefully leaned his walking stick against the side of the cave before he braced his hands on the boulder and eased his head out into the rain, throwing his hair over one shoulder as he did so. The water was cool and refreshing on his skin, and Kellindil could have sworn that he could actually _feel_ the dirt being washed from his skin.

At least two tendays worth of dirt, dust, and grime was far too much to expect rain alone to wash away, but the elven archer was thankful that the rain was falling hard enough that, with some scrubbing, he was able to wash the dirt from behind his ears and from the surface of the hair above his ears. When he had done all he could his hair was still brown, this time colored with mud that he had done his best to keep from dripping onto or into his clothing, but the hair near his ears had a distinctive shade of blond to it.

The elf sighed in relief as he stepped back into the dry confines of the cave, staying bent over so that his hair was hanging towards the ground and not touching his slightly-less-filthy clothes. The last thing he wanted right now was to deal with mud down his shirt on top of everything else. He grimaced as he saw a wet glob of mud drop from his hair to land on the ground, glad that it didn't land on his boots and hoping that the mud in his hair would dry quickly so he could stand up straight again. He sighed in resignation when he heard Bryran stifle a snort of laughter behind him, and he leaned back at the wall of the cave, trying to get comfortable while he waited for the mud in his hair to dry and wasn't it sad that that was actually one of the most normal things he'd thought for at least a tenday?

Kellindil ignored the muffled chuckles from back at the fire, telling himself that he would find a way to get Bryran back for laughing at him. Maybe he could trip the warrior just as they were approaching a mud puddle? That would give him a good laugh, and it would be funny to see Bryran spitting out mud…He couldn't restrain his chuckle at the mental image that thought invoked, and he could practically feel the curious glance that the warrior was now giving him.

He was grinning the entire time it took his hair to dry enough for him to go back to the fire and return his hair to its' proper position.

The elven archer made his way back to the fire, a jaunty spring in his step, and he still had a smile on his face as he lowered himself to sit cross-legged across from Bryran, setting his walking stick down within arms' reach as he did so. Kellindil looked over at Bryran, seeing the wary look on the warrior's face and correctly guessing that Bryran had figured out that whatever he had been chuckling about while his hair dried had something to do with him. As a small revenge for laughing at him, the elf smiled a bit wider and brightened his eyes, snickering when the human hurriedly looked away and scooted backwards as if worried he would suddenly leap across the fire to attack him.

Bryran cleared his throat nervously, a shaky grin on his face as he tried to determine whether or not the elf would try and exact revenge on him for laughing, before he commented, "It seems the storm will subside during the night, do you think we should prepare to set out in the morning, or shall we wait another day or so to be sure that the storm will have moved on?"

Kellindil sobered, his amusement fading as he gave the question some serious consideration, and then he said thoughtfully, "I think we should set out as soon as the storm abates. Our food supply will not allow us to remain here for the time needed to make sure that the storm has moved on." He knew that with certainty, given the small meal they had had after they had taken refuge in the cave the night before, and he could see Bryran's agreement in the warrior's eyes.

The warrior sighed as he lay down and then shifted into a more relaxed position, murmuring to Kellindil as he did so, "I suggest you get as much rest as you can my friend, it would be best that we are well rested before we set out tomorrow."

The elven archer nodded in agreement as he also lay down and almost immediately slipped into a deep reverie, his other injuries clearly desiring the healing that a good rest would provide for him.

Bryran looked aimlessly at the stone ceiling above, wondering when the bad luck that had seemingly been dogging his new companion's heels would cease. Surely the elf had already suffered more than his share of misfortune, the warrior thought, but then sighed beneath his breath. Whether by chance or design, Bryran thought, the storm, both literal and figurative, could not last forever.

**Poor Kellindil, I've been really mean to him, haven't I? ^_^ Sorry Kellindil, but a lot of things are going to happen before I let you get to Coldwood! :P The purpose of that last paragraph was basically to show that Bryran was feeling some sympathy for the string of bad luck *Snickers* that Kellindil's been having. By the way, chapters might come a little slower after this, since I'm going to type up some advance chapters in case I run into some writer's block while working on my other, newer story for the Devil May Cry fandom. And to the reviewer who asked if I could bring Drizzt into this story, sorry but no can do, this is strictly Kellindil-centric, with some Bryran thrown in. ^_^ As always, constructive criticism is welcome! Please review and tell me what you think!**


	13. Chapter 13

Bryran and Kellindil woke at sunrise to find that the storm had indeed moved on during the night and the sun was shining brightly as they quickly packed up their supplies and set out again, able to move more quickly thanks to the fact that a great many of the bruises and scratches that Kellindil had been sporting had healed thanks to the deep reverie he had been able to fall into while he and the warrior had waited out the storm inside the cave. Still, Kellindil made use of his walking stick while they traveled; the mostly healed scratches on his leg courtesy of the wolf he had slain still tender despite the decent reverie he had obtained and the filling meals he had eaten since then.

The day, in complete contrast to the storm of the previous two, was incredibly bright. The sky was a beautiful clear blue, and the sun was a bright ball of golden fire shining down on the earth. The river was calm, if a little swollen from the rains, and the air smelled crisp and clean, as though it had been purified in the wake of the storm. Birds could be heard singing, and the elf and the warrior stopped and watched with smiles on their faces when a pair of song birds flew past them. The two companions continued walking, taking advantage of the beautiful day to make as much progress on their journey as they could.

In a complete reversal of fortune from the last several days, Kellindil got to put his newly-acquired bow to good use when they spotted a group of rabbits hiding behind the few bushes that managed to grow in the rocky ground of the Pass. Proving he was worth every bit of his reputation, the elven archer caught them no less than five plump rabbits for breakfast and lunch. While Bryran prepared the first meal of the day and cleaned the rabbit skins as best he could without the proper supplies, Kellindil washed the blood from his recovered arrows in the river and enjoyed the smell of cooking rabbit meat that wafted his way from the small cooking fire that his companion had started.

The elf's stomach growled quietly as it reminded him sharply that he had not had a substantial meal since the start of the last storm, and he found his mouth watering in anticipation of sinking his teeth into the rabbit meat, not caring if it was seasoned with herbs or not. He glanced longingly towards the fire and the cooking meat as he finished cleaning the arrowheads and he absently slid the arrows back into the quiver on his back as he made his way back to the fire so he could sit down across from Bryran and wait for the rabbit meat to be cooked enough for them to eat.

Kellindil smiled gratefully when Bryran handed him a generous portion of rabbit meat, and he gently blew across the still-hot meal, not wanting to add a burned tongue to the list of injuries he could say he'd had within the last three tendays. He took a small bite of the meat, his eyes closing in rapture as the taste flowed across his tongue and he swallowed after a minute of chewing and enjoying the first bite of the first decent meal he'd had in several days. His throat stung lightly, but it wasn't nearly as bad as it had been and he was able to ignore the slight discomfort fairly easily. The delicious taste of the rabbit also helped to distract him from the stinging in his throat, even though the meat hadn't been seasoned with any herbs or spices.

Was it a bad sign, the elven archer wondered in the back of his mind, that unseasoned meat was beginning to taste like the most glorious thing he had ever eaten? He idly voiced that question to Bryran and then watched in both amusement and curiosity as the warrior promptly choked on the meat he had just taken a bite of and pounded on his chest while at the same time grabbing the waterskin that Kellindil had thoughtfully decided to hand to him, taking great gulps of the water before sighing in relief as the rabbit meat finally ceased choking him as it was washed the rest of the way down his throat.

The warrior glared half-heartedly at the chuckling elf as he grumbled under his breath and wiped his mouth on his hand self-consciously. Once he had finally gotten some of his dignity back (which wasn't easy, considering the elf snickering at him across the fire) he scowled at his traveling companion before the expression quivered apart and he indulged in a chuckle at his own expense before he told Kellindil jovially, "Alright, alright, enough laughing at me. To answer your question from before I had to fight off the rabbit meat trying to choke me," He paused and waited for the elven archer to get his renewed laughter under control then continued, "I imagine that after everything that had been happening to you since you dug yourself out of your grave and started living on berries, nuts, and the occasional piece of cooked wolf meat, it is natural to want something you would normally eat. Hence thinking that cooked rabbit meat is one of the best things you've ever tasted."

Kellindil thought about that for a moment before he shrugged and went back to enjoying his meal, quickly finishing the remaining rabbit meat and helping himself to seconds, ignoring Bryran's quiet chuckle and focusing on enjoying the meal. Between both of their empty stomachs, they managed to finish off five rabbits easily, and they had to sit back for a moment and enjoy the feeling of full stomachs before they began clearing the remains of their impromptu campsite. Bryran did most of the work, but Kellindil felt a measure of pride in being able to help much more than he had previously been able to.

The warrior shouldered his pack, now containing five rabbit skins that he privately thought would make good linings for some winter boots, and quickly checked to make sure the elven archer was ready to set out again, which he was, before taking the lead as they began walking again. His dark brown eyes were distant as he sank into his thoughts, though he kept at least some of his attention on the surrounding area to keep watch for enemies, his years of adventuring experience not disappearing just because he was deep in thought. Also, he trusted Kellindil to alert him if the elf detected any danger.

Bryran found his thoughts going back to a situation very similar to the one he now found himself in: stuck in a hostile environment with extremely limited supplies and an injured traveling companion. It had happened back when he was still an apprentice warrior, he and his mentor had been on a training mission in a forest, and while they had been crossing a river he had slipped and fallen into the water, forcing his mentor to leap in after him. His mentor had saved his life, but they had been washed far downstream and into dangerous territory with almost all of their supplies being lost in the current, he recalled, and his mentor had been injured. The injury hadn't been severe or crippling, but it had definitely been painful and had caused them no end of trouble before they had finally managed to get back to the small village they had set out from.

The warrior's lips twitched as he imagined the scene they must have presented to the shocked townspeople; him soaked to the bone and dripping water everywhere while covered in bruises, and his mentor leaning heavily on his apprentice's shoulder with his injury blatantly obvious due to the extremely rough bandages and the frightening scowl on his face. They had stayed at that village for around two tendays, he remembered, and he had to suppress a snicker when he thought about his mentor being stuck in bed at the inn while he worked for their room and board for as long as it took his mentor to recover enough to travel.

Patience had never been one of his mentor's strong suits, which was surprising considering what a cunning strategist he'd been in his prime.

Bryran brought himself out of his thoughts and turned his attention back to looking at the surrounding area and keeping an eye out for enemies, though he couldn't keep the nostalgic smile from his face. He had greatly admired his mentor, and the man had been an excellent teacher, if a little eccentric, and the memories always made him smile, especially the ones of all the trouble he had used to get into as an apprentice. The warrior caught his companion giving him a curious look, and he grinned at the elf in response, chuckling when the elven archer just shook his head wryly with a smile on his own lips.

Kellindil paused when he heard something that sounded out of place in the otherwise quiet atmosphere of the Pass, and he held up a hand to signal Bryran. The warrior stopped beside him and the elven archer quietly made his way towards where the noises were coming from, Bryran following him silently as they came up to a wall of boulders (the only way to get around them was a small space only wide enough for one person to walk through at a time right next to the river) that blocked their view of the source of the noises. The elf felt a sinking feeling in his gut as he realized that the sounds were actually voices, talking in Orcish, and he shared an uneasy look with Bryran before they cautiously found handholds in the rocks and heaved themselves up to look over the barrier, Kellindil being forced to lean his walking stick against the boulders before he could pull himself up.

Their eyes widened when they saw the source of the noises: Orcs. Ten or more of the creatures, and these orcs weren't ragged and disorganized like the three from before. The monsters were setting up animal skin tents, drying racks for pelts, and digging fire pits. It was apparent that the orcs meant to stay there for a long time, which was not good news for the warrior and the elf, who had to get around the orcs to get to Coldwood. The Dead Orc Pass was undoubtedly to quickest way to Coldwood, and it would add several tendays to their journey to go back the way they had come to find a way out of the Pass so that they could walk along the top of the cliffs that made up the walls of the Pass.

Bryran looked at Kellindil and asked him, his voice a mixture of exasperation and resignation, "My friend, have you offended a deity and somehow not realized it?"

Kellindil just shook his head in disbelief, his eyes locked on the latest obstacle in their path.

**And the orcs have returned! I just can't let Kellindil have an easy time of it, can I? And since it has been brought to my attention that I haven't really revealed much about Bryran, I decided to add that one bit about him being in a similar situation to the one he's in now. I hope you enjoyed that little glimpse into Bryran's past! ^_^ This chapter was particularly difficult for me to write because while I was writing it this one line kept jumping into my head and it had absolutely nothing to do with this story. As always, constructive criticism is welcome! Please review and tell me what you think!**


	14. Chapter 14

The warrior and the elf had retreated to a small, secluded alcove six yards away from the wall of boulders when they had spotted an orc sentry making his way to the small space that served as the only way around the boulders, not wanting to be spotted and an alert raised. They considered themselves lucky that the orcs had been too busy setting up camp to notice them peering over the natural stone wall, because they were sure that with Kellindil still recovering they wouldn't have been able to outrun any serious pursuit, though what rankled the elven archer to no end was that his injuries – healing though they were – were slowing him down once again.

Kellindil leaned his walking stick against his shoulder as he sat down on a rock in the alcove, looking across the small space at Bryran, who had also claimed a rock to use as a chair, and sighing as he asked wearily, "What should we do? It would take too long to double back and find a way out of the Pass, and the chance of the orcs leaving anytime soon, judging by the tents they were setting up, is slim to none." He finished his summary of two of their options and sighed, hoping that his companion would have an idea.

Bryran leaned back against the wall of the alcove and matched the elf's sigh, reluctantly telling Kellindil, "I am sorry, my friend, but it seems as though doubling back is our only option. With you still recovering from your injuries, it will be nigh impossible to sneak past the orcs, and these look to be a lot more organized than the three from earlier, not to mention that none of them are fighting and weakening each other. They also outnumber us severely, since I saw ten orcs setting up tents, and I've no doubt that there were more out scouting, not to mention the sentries posted out of our line of sight. I'll wager you that the leader of this band was in one of the tents that were already set up before we arrived, and we don't know if they have a shaman with them or not."

He paused for breath and sighed again before he reiterated, "I am sorry, but the risk involved in trying to sneak past them is simply too high. We would be better served by going back and searching for a way out of the Pass. It will add several tendays to our journey, but we will doubtless be safer than trying to slip past a band of orcs."

Kellindil's jaw tightened in anger, but he couldn't deny that Bryran made a great deal of sense, and so he reluctantly nodded, silently agreeing that doubling back would be their best course of action. The warrior across from him leaned back, satisfied with that answer, and the two traveling companions settled more comfortably into the small alcove, preparing to wait until night fell so they could get some rest and then set back out before the sun rose on the next day.

The time until nightfall seemed to crawl by, and the elf kept his ears alert for any sounds that might indicate an orc about to discover their hiding place. His heritage and pride as an elf seethed at having to hide from his ancestral enemies, but his years of experience and his common sense agreed that hiding and then going back the way they'd come really was the best course of action. He couldn't stop himself from relaxing somewhat when the day finally faded into night though, since it meant that half of his and Bryran's new ordeal was almost over, and he willing faded into a light reverie sitting against the wall of the alcove while Bryran took the first watch.

It was the middle of the night when Kellindil startled awake, and he spent several moments looking around and trying to figure out what had woken him. He listened intently, but all he heard was the natural sounds of the night, aside from an orc snoring incredibly loudly in the camp near them. He had to restrain the urge to snort in laughter, since that orc snoring reminded him a lot of a dragon growling. His lips quirked up in amusement, he looked across the alcove at Bryran, only to find the warrior slumped against the wall and deeply asleep. Apparently the warrior's tiredness had gotten the best of him before he could wake Kellindil to take over the watch.

The elven archer sighed almost inaudibly under his breath, unable to decide whether or not to be upset about that or not. On one hand, he could certainly understand that Bryran was bound to be tired and he knew that humans actually slept instead of going into reverie like elves did, but on the other hand falling asleep on watch was incredibly careless and could have cost them both dearly. After a few moments of thought, he finally decided to let the warrior sleep and just tease him unmercifully about falling asleep the next day while they walked back the way they had come.

And that fact still rankled, since he had thought for sure that they would begin to make noticeable progress on their journey to Coldwood when the storm had cleared up, only for them to stumble upon a group of orcs setting up a camp and looking like they were planning to stay there for awhile. The elf shook his head, sighing and thinking that there was no use in lamenting what he could not change, and he instead turned his attention to figuring out what had woken him from his reverie.

There were no sounds of someone approaching their hiding place, and nothing seemed out of the ordinary in the sounds of the night, so Kellindil was at as loss as to explain what had woken him. Just as he thought that maybe it had been his imagination, he had a sinking feeling in his stomach, a feeling of dread that he couldn't explain, and he was compelled to stand and cautiously slip his head out of the alcove to see what was causing it.

He caught sight of the night fires glowing behind the natural stone wall near the orc camp, and when he activated his infra-vision he saw a lone sentry standing at the only way around the boulders short of climbing over them. He was about to duck back into the alcove since nothing seemed to be amiss, but something made him hesitate, and when he looked back towards the orc camp the hair on the back of his neck – weighed down with dirt and grime as it was – stood on end. He was caught between the urge to return to the relative safety of the alcove and wanting to find out what it was that was unnerving him so much.

Kellindil finally sighed under his breath in exasperation before he patted his pocket subconsciously to make sure that the sharpened wolf fang was still there and then cast one last look back at Bryran before he slipped out of the alcove and into the shadows of the night.

Aided by his ranger training and his heritage as an elf, he was able to reach the wall of boulders without alerting the sentry. He looked up at the barrier and pressed himself close to the stones to make himself as unnoticeable as possible in case the sentry chose to look in his direction. His leg throbbed in a sort of phantom pain, clearly warning him of the pain that would come should he choose to try and climb over the natural wall, and he silently groaned as he reluctantly found a handhold in the stone and began pulling himself up.

He found himself thankful that he hadn't managed to wash the dirt from his hair; after all, dark brown hair was much less noticeable in the dark than blond hair.

The elven archer pulled himself up onto the top of the boulder wall, pausing to look over the camp and examine the placement of the guards. His sharp blue eyes spotted two more sentries at the opposite side of the camp, along with several sleeping orcs nearby, obviously the ones meant to take over the watch at some point. He guessed that that side was more heavily guarded because there wasn't a natural barrier protecting it, though when he looked down towards the 'door' in the wall he saw what he had missed from the alcove: there was a sleeping orc leaning against the rocks next to the natural door, invisible to anyone looking from the other side of the wall.

Realizing that he had dodged an arrow – metaphorically speaking – on that one, he paused to mentally say a small prayer of thanks before he returned his gaze to the camp, taking in where things were and the placement of the tents, because he was willing to bet that the leader of this band of green-skinned monsters would have the biggest tent. He noted which tents had heat signatures in them, making mental notes to avoid those, since the last thing he wanted was to be noticed by a bunch of orcs who would no doubt greatly enjoy ripping him apart, and he mentally steeled himself before he shifted position and dropped down to the ground on the inside of the boulder-wall.

The elf had done all the scouting that he could from on top of the natural stone wall, so now it was time to take a closer look. His infra-vision allowed him to keep track of where the orcs were, and he quietly slipped over to an empty tent. He glanced around quickly, and then silently slid through the door of the tent and stayed as low to the ground as possible as he looked around, trying to be certain of where he was…and apparently where he was, was a supply tent filled with spare animal skins, barrels of water and orcish liquor (judging by the smell), and packs of preserved meat. Whatever the orcs were planning, it was obviously going to take a lot of supplies to pull off, and Kellindil was starting to doubt that the camp he was in was just a normal orc camp. He tried to shove his suspicions aside for now as he slipped back out of the tent and made his way to the next empty tent. And then the next several tents, all of which turned out to be supply tents.

Kellindil was starting to feel more suspicious than ever as he absently snuck into the next empty tent he came across, not paying much attention except to make sure that the tent was empty and that there were no orcs around who could spot him and raise the alarm. However, what he found in this new tent brought him up short, and it was all he could do to keep from gasping out loud.

This tent was larger than the others had been, and Kellindil distantly thought that this must be the orc leader's tent. The tent was also occupied by items of luxury that the elven archer was absolutely sure weren't of orcish make, such as a finely made wooden table covered by a silken tablecloth and a colorful, thickly woven rug that lay on the ground underneath the table. The elf shook his head to clear it though he still looked a bit dazed as he cautiously moved further into the tent, grateful that his infra-vision meant he didn't have to somehow light of candle in order to see the inside of large tent and risk alerting any of the orcs nearby.

Keeping his ears primed to detect the sounds of anything coming in his direction, say the footsteps of the one that the tent belonged to, he took a longer, more detailed look around the space. His gaze immediately went to the large (two feet high and at least four foot wide), heavily locked trunk at the foot of the bedroll (which the elf irritably noted was of very fine quality) and he silently crept over to it, pausing when he saw the traps set around the thing.

Granted, Kellindil wasn't a rogue or thief by any stretch of the imagination, but his elven fingers – long and dexterous as they were – were ideal for picking locks and disabling traps. And, thanks to his slightly misspent childhood from before he started ranger training, he actually knew _how _to disable a great number of traps.

It took him a lot longer than he was comfortable with to unlock the trunk and then a few more minutes to gently ease the lid up so he could peer inside without making any noise that could possibly alert any of the orcs sleeping in the other tents. What was inside the trunk stunned the elven archer, and he had to fumble to catch the lid of the trunk when it slipped from his suddenly nerveless fingers. He reached a trembling hand into the trunk and withdrew a large clump of tangled jewelry – and he wasn't as sensitive to enchantments as his drow cousins, but even he could tell that a great deal of the tangled necklaces, rings, bracelets, and who knew what else was enchanted.

Kellindil noticed some papers in the trunk, and he set the jewelry back in the trunk so he could pull out the papers, curious as to what was so important that orcs would bother to write it down. To his disgruntlement, the papers were written in orcish, and took him more than a few moments to decipher the writing that more closely resembled chicken scratch than words and letters to him. When he finally managed to get the gist of what the top paper was saying, he gaped in shock and his eyes widened in horror when he realized what the papers were saying.

The sound of heavy footsteps approaching broke through his shock, and the elf hurriedly folded up the papers and stuffed them inside his shift. Without looking, he blindly grabbed a clump of the jewelry from the trunk, not paying attention to how it seemed oddly stiff, and shoved that inside another of his pockets and at the same time he closed the trunk lid as quietly and quickly as he could and reset all the traps he had disarmed. The owner of the footsteps were getting closer, and thinking fast the elven archer pulled out the sharpened wolf fang and crept to the back of the tent, quickly finding an exposed section of animal skin.

Using the sharpened wolf fang, the elven archer sliced a hole through the animal skin big enough for him to squeeze through sideways, and he did just that, pausing to use the wolf fang to slice the edges of the hole to make it look as though a wild animal had used its' claws to tear through the animal skin in order to get access to the inside of the tent. He didn't have time to do a thorough job, so he just hoped that none of the orcs in the camp were experienced trackers and slid silently along the stone wall at the back of the tent, making it to the corner of the front of the tent just as the owner of the heavy footsteps he had heard entered the tent and saw the torn hole Kellindil had made in the animal skin.

A loud roar of anger and a lot of shouted orcish words – a lot of which the elf was certain were curses – issued from the tent and Kellindil promptly began running towards the wall of boulders he had originally climbed over like all the demons of the Abyss were at his heels.

Which, as far as he was concerned, they were.

The orc camp was in chaos as he ran, trying to be as silent and unnoticeable as possible while running from his life, but considering how lucky he had been up until that point, it was no surprise that his luck ran out just when he was about to complete his escape. The lone sentry who had stayed to guard the small space between the natural wall of rock and the river while its' partner had run to see what had angered the chief spotted a darting shadow running towards the section of wall not far from where it was, and the prospect of a fight made its' eyes light up.

The monster roared in delight as it charged towards the shadow, and its' blood began to boil as, to its' great delight, the shadow was actually an _elf_!

Another roar and the orc raised its' axe to try and dismember the escaping elf…

Kellindil could have sworn that his life began to flash before his eyes when the orc appeared with its' raised axe just as he was about to reach the boulder-wall. His eyes automatically slammed closed against his will, and he braced himself for the feel of a sharp blade piercing his flesh, but instead the moments dragged by and the elven archer's eyes snapped open when he felt something wet hit his face. The orc was still standing above him with its' axe raised, but right before his eyes the weapon slid out of the green-skinned monster's hands and landed on the ground with a muted 'thud!'.

The elf's eyes landed on the tip of the sword protruding from the monster's chest, and looking behind the dead orc revealed Bryran standing there with a rather frightening scowl on his face, especially when the warrior's brown eyes landed on Kellindil and the scowl deepened. Bryran pulled his sword from the dead orc and the corpse promptly fell to the ground where the warrior then wiped the blood off his blade using the orc's dirty shirt.

Bryran looked at the crouching elf and jerked his head towards the space through the rock wall and when Kellindil slunk passed him the warrior hissed out under his breath, "We will talk about this later, _my friend_." And he was gratified when he saw Kellindil cringe slightly from the corner of his eye while he covered their retreat.

As soon as the two companions were around the stone barrier, they began running for their lives as fast as they could as the angry yells of at least a dozen orcs sounded from the camp behind them.

**Yeah, this chapter has shown that no matter how much pain I put him through, Kellindil can still kick butt when he has to. And Bryran isn't half bad either! ^_^ I hope this chapter was worth the wait! I'm currently working on another story that was inspired by a conversation with Lang Noi, and the plot bunney basically grabbed me around the throat and threatened to strangle me if I didn't write it, so...Yeah, I probably won't update very often until I finish that story. As always, constructive criticism is welcome! Please review and tell me what you think!**

**Quick Poll: Who wants to find out what the papers said that horrified Kellindil so much?**


	15. Chapter 15

When Bryran had woken up in the middle of the night to find his elven traveling companion gone, he had known that something was likely to go very, _very _wrong very soon. Somehow, the elven archer just seemed to attract trouble…The warrior had immediately stood up, grabbed the elf's walking stick, and poked his head out of the alcove, looking around quickly for any signs of trouble before slipping out into the shadows and heading towards the rock wall. There hadn't been any doubt in his mind that if Kellindil had gone anywhere under his own power, he would have headed straight to where there was the most danger.

Once an adventurer, always an adventurer, he'd thought wryly before pressing himself up against the natural wall in order to stay hidden while he waited for some sign that Kellindil was indeed in the orc camp.

He hadn't had to wait long, as sure enough he heard an angry orc's bellowing coming from somewhere in the center of the camp, and the orc sentry he could see guarding the space around the boulder wall run from his post and head towards the disturbance. The warrior wasn't foolish enough to rush around the natural barrier though, since if he remembered his strategy lessons there were always at least two sentries posted at each entrance and exit. He wasn't sure if orcs followed that protocol or not, but he wasn't taking any chances.

And it was a good thing he didn't because, sure enough, he had heard an orc roar right behind the natural wall. He had quickly drawn his sword and slipped through the small space between the stone wall and the river and seen one of the green-skinned monsters prepared to chop his wayward traveling companion into tiny pieces.

He hadn't thought twice before running the monster through and then helping the elf to escape the orc camp, returning the elf's walking stick to him shortly after they began running for their lives and listening to the angry bellows of the orc camp fade into the distance behind them.

The sun was up by the time they found a path that led up to the top of the cliff that formed one side of the Dead Orc Pass, and it was nearly noon by the time the two traveling companions finally deemed it safe to stop and try and catch their breath.

Kellindil was leaning forward and gasping for breath as sweat dripped down his face and he was leaning almost all of his weight on his walking stick, and he was seriously considering keeping the branch after he had completely healed and having it made into a proper staff. It had been far too useful for him to consider just tossing it away once he reached his kin in Coldwood. He continued gasping for breath as he glanced over at Bryran to see how the warrior was doing, and he was treated to the sight of the human leaning heavily against a tree with his chest heaving and his head tipped back as he gasped for breath.

The elven archer knew he was in for a tongue lashing to end all tongue lashings, but he was sure that Bryran would understand after the warrior read over what the papers he had stolen contained. He still had a hard time believing it himself, but he understood orcish well enough to know that he hadn't made a mistake in translating the script. Though, a second set of eyes couldn't hurt, he acknowledged, and after he was sure that he could stand up straight without risk of falling flat on his face he straightened up and looked over at Bryran, somewhat dreading the conversation to come.

The warrior did not disappoint, and as soon as he got his breath back he started in on Kellindil, lecturing the elf sharply, "What in the Nine Hells were you thinking, going off on your own?! If I hadn't woken up and saw that you were gone, you would have been killed! Of all the irresponsible-!" He continued along that line for almost fifteen minutes, scolding the elf who was doubtlessly decades his senior about being so reckless as to sneak into an orc camp and almost get himself caught, before he calmed down enough to take several deep breaths and be grateful that he had been around to save the trouble-magnet of an elf from what would no doubt be a very painful death at the hands of orcs.

Kellindil kept his gaze down throughout the blistering lecture, feeling rather like a young apprentice being lectured by an instructor about not looking around before shooting arrows after having accidentally shot that same instructor in the buttocks with a practice arrow. Now _that_ had been something to explain to his parents after he came home after having been banished from the archery range for a full month…When Bryran paused for breath, the elf seized his chance and withdrew the papers he had stolen from the orcs from his pocket, unfolding them as he spoke earnestly to the warrior, "My friend, I know you are angry with me and you have every right to be, but I think we have more important problems right now than just my tendency to wander into danger!" He handed Bryran the papers and waited anxiously for his companion to decipher the text written on the documents.

Bryran silently read over what was written on the papers, his face becoming more shocked by the minute, and he silently lifted his brown eyes to lock with Kellindil's blue ones as they both realized just what the documents were describing:

Plans to invade and conquer Sundabar.

Both the elf and the warrior were quiet for several long minutes before Bryran murmured, "It appears that our trip to Coldwood will have to wait, my elven friend, because I think that alerting Helm Dwarf-Friend is more important." The elven archer merely nodded in agreement, having met the ruler of Sundabar and having a great deal of respect for him, as Bryran read further, trying to find out when the attack was supposed to take place and where it was coming from, only to find something much different but no less troubling.

Bryran frowned, an uneasy feeling gathering in the pit of his stomach, before he looked over at Kellindil, who looked just as uneasy because of the warrior's expression, and he said, "It seems that the orc leader Graul has been slain, and that a younger, more ambitious orc has taken his place. What's worse, this new leader, going by the name 'Brael', has apparently formed an alliance with several wandering goblin clans and an entire family of stone giants. Also, another orc clan from near Adbar has apparently promised to aid in the attack." That was most troubling, and judging by the look on Kellindil's face, the elf agreed that that was definitely _not_ good.

Kellindil swallowed nervously, feeling the dread from the night before return even stronger than ever, and he nodded as he said, "Yes, we must warn Sundabar as soon as possible. And besides, Sundabar is a good place to stop for supplies before we begin the trek towards Coldwood." He tried to make light of the very serious situation, even though Sundabar was in the opposite direction from Coldwood, and he had to wonder if he had indeed offended a deity at some point and just failed to realize it. He had found more trouble in the past several tendays than he had in an entire year of adventuring with his friends.

He absently thought that he couldn't wait to tell his kin of _this_ series of misadventures, as he and Bryran began discussing the best route to get to Sundabar as quickly as possible, because both companions understood that time was of the essence.

**And enter the plot twist! What, you didn't think I'd let him make it to the mountains that easily, did you? Nope, he had to run into some kind of trouble! ^_^ I am _so _sorry that it has taken me this long to update, but the inspiration for this story has been buried under a pile of other plot bunnies. Consider this a belated Christmas present, and I hope you all had a happy holiday!**

**Also, I was looking through some of my FR books and it came to my attention that Sundabar was in the opposite direction of where Kellindil was going – apologies if I said otherwise at some point! XP As always, constructive criticism is welcome! Please review and tell me what you think!**


	16. Chapter 16

The two companions ran almost the entire day, with only short stops for rest and to forage for berries and nuts which they ate as they ran, towards Sundabar. Both Bryran and Kellindil were sweaty and exhausted, but they kept running as long as they could because they knew that they had to get to the dwarf-made fortress before the orcs could launch their attack. The papers that the elven archer had stolen hadn't mentioned much about the time of the attack, but they had been very detailed about where the monsters would concentrate their attacks. So detailed in fact that both veteran adventurers were sure that there was a spy inside the city feeding the orcs information about the city's weak points.

The city of Sundabar was a dwarf-made fortress, but there were some places pointed out as weak points in the papers that not even Kellindil knew about, and he was well acquainted with Helm Dwarf-Friend, the ruler of Sundabar. Not to mention that there were seasoned adventurers coming and going from the city at all hours, and neither the elf nor the human were entirely sure that the city itself was unaware of what the orcs were planning, but they didn't want to take the chance that the orcs' move really was a surprise attack. The stakes were too high for that kind of risky gamble.

Bryran and Kellindil ran for hours, the sun moving steadily across the sky above them, and they made good time although the elven archer was forced to rely on his walking stick more as his newly-healed leg protested the strain he was putting on it, and thus the warrior attempted to ease up their frantic pace, even if just a little bit. The elf wouldn't hear of it, however, and insisted on continuing their taxing pace. It went unsaid that the orcs were bound to be hot on their trail after they realized that they had been robbed, and they would have to run hard and fast to reach Sundabar before the green-skinned monsters caught up to them.

The warrior huffed and panted for breath as he ran, glancing over at the elven archer and seeing him in a similar situation, and sweat glistened on both the companions' brows as they ran. They were feeling hot and tired, and Kellindil's scalp was beginning to itch once again as the dirt in his hair mixed with his sweat, but the elf managed to ignore it. It was almost night fall before Bryran put his foot down and demanded that they stop and rest before they simply collapsed to the ground. Kellindil was forced to agree, and they took cover in a small copse of trees, both of them leaning against the thick trunks and gasping for breath while their hearts thundered inside their chests.

After almost an hour in which the sun vanished over the horizon and the moon began to cast its' light over the terrain, the elf and the human finally recovered from their frantic run from the orc camp. Bryran took a deep breath through his mouth and let it out through his nose before he pushed away from the tree trunk he was leaning against and returned to a standing position, Kellindil doing the same across the small group of trees. The elven archer was leaning heavily on his walking stick, and Bryran spared a moment to be concerned that his companion had put too much stress on his healing leg.

"My friend, once we get to Sundabar, how are you planning on getting Helm Dwarf-Friend to listen to you? I find it hard to believe that we will simply be granted an audience as soon as we ask…" Bryran wondered, still panting slightly even though his lungs were no longer burning and begging for air.

The elf took another gulp of air and shakily answered, "Ah, in my travels with a group of my other friends, I became well acquainted with Lord Dwarf-Friend, and as long as I can get my hair back to its' original color, I believe the guards will recognize me…I used to go with my friends to visit whenever our adventures brought us to the area and we needed a place to rest," and he was very much looking forward to getting the dirt and sweat out of his hair, but that went without saying. He took another deep breath and straightened up, trying not to lean too heavily on his walking stick even though his leg was already beginning to ache as his recent exertion caught up to him.

Bryran frowned, curious about how the elf and his group of friends could be granted audience with the ruler of Sundabar, but then again Kellindil had only told him amusing stories instead of serious tales of his adventures with them. He would just have to ask once they reached the city itself and could catch their breath, he decided, and it wasn't like he hadn't been keeping things from his companion himself. A little patience would go a long way, as a Halfling sage had once told him. He eyed his companion, taking note of the sweat beading the elf's brow and the lines of strain around his eyes and mouth, sure signs that his companion was about at the end of his rope. They would have to step up their pace to reach Sundabar, and that might not be the best thing for the wood elf's health, though knowing Kellindil, the archer would insist on it anyway…and Bryran would agree, because warning a city of a possible invasion was more important than going at an easier pace.

The warrior sighed, straightening his shoulders, brushing back the sweat-soaked hair plastered to his forehead with one hand and adjusting the packs he was carrying as he said firmly, "Alright, that's enough rest for now! We can make up some of the distance separating us from Sundabar before the sun rises if we start moving now. Are you up for it, my elven friend?" The last question was almost rhetorical, as Kellindil nodded firmly as soon as Bryran finished speaking, and wordlessly they both set off at a brisk jog towards Sundabar, the elf trying not to rely on his walking stick too obviously.

He failed, but Bryran didn't call him on it.

Several hours later, and the warrior was beginning to wonder if maybe he should have. The archer's jaw had a determined set to it, and there was an intent look in his eyes, like he refused to accept that his body was telling him that he was pushing it too hard. Bryran frowned, concerned for his companion yet keeping pace with the still injured – even if he refused to admit it – elf. The elf's leg might have healed, but too much pressure and it was possible that his leg might give out and the wound from his fight with the wolf might tear open again.

Unknown to Bryran, Kellindil was thinking almost the exact same thing, except he added in a prayer that his leg would hold up until they either reached Sundabar or they stopped for another break. His myriad of cuts and bruises stung and ached, only adding to the pain his leg was causing him as he jogged as quickly as he could, relying heavily on his tree branch-cum-walking stick to help him keep a steady pace. He breathed shallowly through his mouth and tried to lessen the sting in his lungs that signaled that he would need to rest soon lest he collapse from insufficient air.

It didn't work, and though he was reluctant to do so, the elven archer slowed down in an effort to conserve his energy. Bryran noticed and immediately slowed his own pace, a look of honest concern on his face as he asked the elf, "Are you alright?" he didn't wait for Kellindil to answer before he continued, "I think it's best that we stop for now, you look as though you can use a break and I know that I can," seeing that the archer looked about to argue, the warrior fixed a look on his face that clearly said that the conversation was over, and Kellindil's shoulders dropped in defeat as he nodded resignedly.

The warrior knew that he didn't imagine the fleeting look of relief that crossed the elf's face when his companion leaned back against a convenient tree, but he didn't comment on it.

Wordlessly reaching into one of the packs and pulling out the few remaining scraps of rabbit meat, he silently handed half the unseasoned jerky to the winded elf and then began eating his share. It was better than nuts and berries at any rate, he thought wryly as he quickly finished off the meager fare, seeing Kellindil do the same from the corner of his eye. He dusted his hands off and sighed, leaning his full weight back against the trunk of the tree that he had chosen as his resting spot as he thoughtfully watched the movements of his traveling companion and tried to gauge how much pain the elf was actually in. It wasn't easy, but as he already knew Kellindil's leg was paining him that made it easier to see how much the archer's other bumps and bruises added to his discomfort.

As for Kellindil, he was just relieved to be able to take a few moments to rest and take the pressure off his leg, though he would sooner run naked through the Trollmoors, the foulest bog in existence, than admit it to anyone other than himself. To try and take his mind off the various aches and pains afflicting him, he finished off the food Bryran had handed him and carefully withdrew the folded papers from his pocket. He figured that he could look over them while they rested and see if he had missed anything that might give them some clue as to who the spy within Sundabar was or had been. He didn't hold out much hope of that happening, but at least it was worth a second look.

From the look that Bryran shot him, the warrior knew what he was up to, but Kellindil casually ignored that through the ease of long practice of ignoring Fret when he went on a cleanliness tirade.

When the end of the papers cleared his pocket, however, the quiet tell-tale jingling of jewelry sounded from his other pocket, set off by the rustling of fabric. Abruptly reminded of the tangle of necklaces, rings, and who knew what else that he had stolen from the orc leader's treasure chest, he carefully refolded the papers and slid them back into the pocket he had taken them from. Unraveling some of the jewelry might be a better use of the time the small break the two of them were taking provided than re-reading the orders, the archer thought as he pulled out the tangle of precious medals. Pausing when he heard a sharp intake of breath from his friend's direction, he looked up half-sheepishly as he said, "As you can see, the papers weren't the only thing I took from the orcs…"

Bryran snorted in laughter, shoulders trembling briefly before he got himself under control and replied in a faintly incredulous tone, "Well now, I suppose we know why the orcs were so keen to catch you as we escaped,"

Kellindil let out a startled laugh, as he hadn't really thought about it that way, and after a moment Bryran joined in. It was almost five minutes before the two of them managed to get their mirth under control, but when they did the two companions had amused smiles on their faces as the elf set to work untangling one of the necklaces from the bundle (a necklace that he _didn't_ sense magic in, just to be safe). The warrior leaning back against the other tree kept quiet so he didn't disturb the elf's concentration, but the human had to wonder why his companion had felt the need to steal a bunch of jewelry from orcs…and that brought up the question of why exactly the orcs had had the things in the first place. The delicate-looking chains certainly weren't typical orc fashion that was for sure…

He brought that up when Kellindil took a break from his unraveling, and was rewarded with the sight of a thoughtful look crossing his friend's face before Kellindil said slowly, "Yes, they certainly don't look like anything an orc would usually wear, and the leader of the band had an entire chest full of pieces like these in his tent…perhaps they were payment? Orcs wouldn't normally wear them, true, but they do place some value upon precious metals such as gold." He held up the thin golden chain he had managed to untangle from the mass he had stolen in example, but something about his possible answer didn't quite ring true.

Judging by the frown on Bryran's face, the warrior didn't think something was right either.

The elf tactfully didn't mention that some of the accessories he held were enchanted, as that would only raise more questions and they had more than enough of those already. He would mention it once they reached Sundabar and alerted Helm Dwarf-Friend to the danger. The two companions shrugged at each other, both of them wearing slightly troubled expressions as Kellindil slipped the untangled chain into the pocket containing the invasion papers and put the remaining mass of jewelry back in their original pocket.

Deciding that they had rested long enough, the archer pushed himself to his feet, grabbing his walking stick on the way up, and he made up his mind to get the branch made into a proper staff once they reached Sundabar. The tree branch had more than proved its usefulness, and he wasn't about to throw it away without a second thought once he finally healed and didn't need it anymore…although what he would do with a staff once he was healed, he had no idea, since his repertoire of weapons usually included only a bow and arrows, daggers, or short swords. Of course, since he had dug himself out of his own grave he had had to make do with what weapons he could find, such as the wolf fang he still carried.

Oh well, he decided, he'd figure something out once he and Bryran reached the city. He was rather troubled by the long list of things to do once he reached Sundabar that he had accumulated, but that was a different matter entirely.

Across from him, Bryran also stood up and stretched minutely then adjusted how the travel packs he was carrying lay across his shoulders. The weight had to pull at the human's muscles, but he didn't say a word about it, just shouldered the burden so Kellindil didn't have to, and the elf's already high opinion of the man went up several notches. The archer sighed tiredly and murmured, feeling his eyelids increase in weight, "We need to find a place to sleep lest we collapse, my friend…do you suppose we have gained enough time on any pursuit to risk a few hours each?"

Bryran nodded, replying lowly as he moved over to stand near the elf's side, "We don't have much of a choice, my elven friend; we'll have to risk it. We should start walking and keep our eyes out for an easily hidden place to sleep."

Kellindil made a soft sound of assent and laboriously started walking, the warrior keeping a slow pace beside him as they cast their gazes around, searching for a place to rest.

The exhaustion of the last several days were catching up with them both, and the adrenaline that had carried them through their mad run through the canyon and the following one through the forest was fast departing, leaving the pair's limbs heavy. And then, after at least another hour in which the moon moved until it was almost directly overhead, Kellindil had to stop and catch his breath, looking up just by chance after taking a deep breath and blinking in surprise at what he saw before smiling.

Somehow, by chance or divine design, he had spotted the perfect resting place. He nudged Bryran, who had come to a stop beside him, and pointed upwards with a grin on his face when the man looked at him questioningly.

Above their heads, the branches of two trees had entwined, forming a sort of natural bridge between their trunks about two man-lengths long and as wide across as a barbarian lying down with his hands above his head. To Kellindil, a wood elf, the place was perfect for taking a short rest and the fact that it was in a tree meant they weren't likely to be noticed by enemies, though Bryran might think differently. He didn't know if the man knew how to live in trees or not, though the man seemed knowledgeable enough about surviving in forests.

Scanning the canopy of branches and leaves above them, the warrior laughed nervously when he saw what his friend was pointing at, and he said half-nervously, "I'm afraid that unlike you, my friend, I am not part squirrel and therefore unable to sleep in a tree without falling out and breaking my neck."

Kellindil just chuckled, half-grinning as he teased his friend while approaching the tree that played host to the sleeping place he had spotted, "What? Are you afraid of heights?" At Bryran's cautious look at the broad trunk, it was all Kellindil could do not to laugh, instead restraining himself to a quiet chuckle as he assured the human, "Do not worry, I'll help you climb the tree, which will be more than half the battle considering your armor and the packs you're carrying." The elf chuckled at the unamused look Bryran shot him, but for lack of any better options, the warrior just sighed and nodded, eyeing the two trees warily.

It took around fifteen minutes before Bryran was able to haul himself up onto the tree-made platform, and he could only lay there gasping for breath as Kellindil, despite being injured, easily scaled the tree and propped himself up against one of the trunks. The warrior shot the grinning elf a bitter look before studiously avoiding looking over the side of the entangled branches that would serve as their bed for the rest of the night. Both of their packs sat next to Kellindil, who had moved them away from Bryran's sprawled form so that the human wouldn't run the risk of knocking them over the side, and the elf groaned quietly in relief as he stretched his aching legs out straight in front of him.

Now that they weren't moving, both human and wood elf were feeling the various aches and pains of the last few days catching up to them with a vengeance, and they exchanged matching grimaces of understanding.

Shuffling awkwardly until he was laying in the middle of the platform, well away from the sudden drop off the edges, Bryran muttered softly, "I trust, my elven friend, you won't let me go plummeting out of the trees if I go to sleep?" The question was half-joking, but there was a hint of real concern in the man's voice.

The elf eyed the warrior, beginning to understand that there was an actual fear at the root of the man's previous reluctance to climb into the trees, and he smiled gently as he said, "Do not worry, my friend, as long as you do not toss and turn too much there is no risk of falling. And if you do come close to the edges, rest assured that I'll keep you from falling." That seemed to comfort Bryran somewhat, as the brunet closed his eyes shortly afterwards and his breathing evened out.

Looking at the warrior with a light of respect in his eyes, Kellindil took a deep breath before he shifted into a more comfortable position against the trunk at his back and sighed as he slipped into reverie. If Bryran shifted enough to either side to risk falling over the side of the entangled branches, the elf would wake up long before he actually did.

* * *

_Author's Note: Hey all, I'm sorry it took so long for me to update this story, but I've just been swamped with other plot bunnies. Rest assured, I haven't abandoned this story, but the updates will be slow going until I clear out some space in my mental closet. LOL. :P I would like to thank of all those who reviewed the last chapter, and to Tamuril2, you'll just have to wait and see. ;)_

_Sorry the chapter was so short, but this was more of a filler chapter than anything else. Also, I honestly can't remember where Sundabar is anymore, or even if that's the city I was thinking of anyway. *Falls over with swirly eyes* Please review and tell me what you think! As always, constructive criticism is welcome!_


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